


A Boyfriend Isn't Just For Christmas

by DynamicDuo (XylB)



Category: DCU (Comics), Titans (Comics)
Genre: Christmas fic, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, background Halbarry, some saucy scenes. as a treat.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:28:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28582749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XylB/pseuds/DynamicDuo
Summary: The Queen-Lance-Harper-Hawke-Dearden holidays are usually pretty simple: visit for a couple days, breeze through a couple chaotic dinners, and reunite for the new year a week later before going their separate ways. Easy.This year, Roy learns that Ollie has a civilian sister, then about theircousins, and if that's not bad enough, Ollie invites them over for theholidays. Ollie and Dinah suddenly have to find a whole lot more guest rooms, Connor and Mia wind up trapped in a house full of civilians and superheroes, and Roy ends up unpacking a whole lot more than just his Christmas gifts.
Relationships: Garth/Roy Harper
Comments: 43
Kudos: 18





	1. Prologue: December XX

**Author's Note:**

> Just as a light content warning: does contain mentions and references to Roy's heroin + alcohol addictions, including a couple very brief moments to cover him feeling uncomfortable with the drinking going on, and then talking about it the next morning with someone. Please contact me in the comments if you have any questions/want more specifics!
> 
> Do not interact if you ship incest.

"I could come over for Christmas!" The delight is clear in Connie's voice, and Oliver is hard-pressed to deny it - hard-pressed to deny Connie _much_ , even if she is his younger sister, and as fond as he is of keeping his secret identity _secret_. But he does, with a shake of his head to himself and a diplomatic sentence ready on his tongue. 

"I could come visit you out there," he says. "Really, bringing all the kids over here is a lot of work, I wouldn't want to put you through all of that at _Christmas_. I'll come over to you, it'll be nice to see Dave and the kids again." 

Connie stays silent for a long, puzzling moment before blowing out a sigh. 

"I'm not with Dave anymore," she says, a quiet bombshell to the picket fence lifestyle Oliver has always associated with her. 

"Not with - what happened?" He asks, softer than he means, and Connie makes a small, sad noise that tears his heart in two. 

"His secretary." Bitter and heartbroken. "He always had trouble leaving work at _work_." 

"Oh, Connie, I'm so sorry." 

"It's fine." She doesn't sound fine, and Oliver hears the quiet sniff she tries to hide. "It's - it's _over_ now, whatever may be." 

"Divorce?" 

"Last month. I got the house." 

Oliver breathes a small _oh_ that Connie doesn't respond to. It feels a little like he's just shot a gun on a plane - all the air, all the _normality_ he always wished for Connie just whipping out into freefall. He had always known her and Dave as a couple, as _the_ couple, three kids and a house in the suburbs and everything. Well-off. Happy. 

"What about the kids?" 

"They're - they're handling it better than I am, really," Connie admits, with a quiet, sniffly laugh. "I got custody over Harry. Lily and Mike stayed with me as well. I keep...I keep telling them they don't _need_ to, but none of them want to even talk to their father anymore."

"I'm not surprised, if he treated you like that," Oliver says firmly. Connie laughs, more genuine this time, and Oliver can't help thinking of Christmas at hers, in the house that she bought with Dave well over ten years ago, now, and all the memories packed inside. 

God, he can't let her go through that at the holidays. Connie always _loved_ the holidays. 

"Come over here for Christmas." 

"Ollie, you don't have to." 

Oliver shakes his head, even though she can't see it. "No, no, I was talking outta my ass earlier, you come over. Bring the kids. Bring their partners, if they want. I haven't seen Lily and Mike in too long. Harry, too, it'll be good to see h - " 

"Them," Connie corrects. "They came out last month, I just - I just hadn't gotten around to telling you yet, with...everything going on." 

" - them again," Oliver finishes. "At least I know now, before I completely embarrassed myself at Christmas, huh?" 

"Are you sure?" Connie sighs into the receiver. " _Really_ sure? I know you like your privacy - "

"Connie, if you're not buying the plane tickets, I am." Oliver runs a hand through his hair and glances down the hallway of his and Dinah's house. "We've got plenty of room, just come over. Bring everyone." 

"Thank you, Ollie, really. This - means a lot." 

"Don't thank me yet," he warns. "You haven't seen how rowdy this house can get." 

Connie laughs - a real, _genuine_ laugh, nothing sad about it, and Oliver grins to himself. 

"That's right, I'll finally get to meet your wife," she teases. "And all those _kids_ you keep telling me about." 

"They're not much of kids anymore," Oliver sighs. "But I'm sure they'll be as rambunctious as some." 

He heads to one of the sofas in the living room behind him to sink down into it, now thoroughly pulled into conversation with a sister he's, honestly, sorely missed. Visiting Boston for a couple days a year was always good fun, but having her come _here_ , well, that feels a bit more serious. And not only because his entire fucking family over here are vigilantes - a secret he _desperately_ wants to keep. 

It takes a couple hours to hash out the details, from flight tickets - which Oliver does insist on paying for, in the end - to living arrangements, with a hearty assurance that yes, he _does_ have enough bathrooms, and yes, definitely enough bedrooms, because he may have lost his fortune but he already _owned_ the house, and now he earns a comfortable salary at his..."office" job. 

When he hangs up, he wonders precisely how much he's screwed himself over. 

\-- 

Roy gets the text when he's swinging across a rooftop in Manhattan with Wally. Mostly, he's trying to teach Wally some better parkour, but the notification makes him stop dead in his tracks to stare at his screen. It's a simple text. 

_Ollie: everyone meet at the house ASAP_

The most confusing thing about it is that it's sent to the _family_ group chat, not the vigilante one. Roy's holding his _personal_ phone on a rooftop as Arsenal, and that's something he should really never be doing unless there's a dire emergency. 

"Roy?" Wally doubles back to blur to a stop beside him. "What's up?" 

"Uh, Ollie." Roy shows him the text and shrugs. "I have no idea what this is about." 

Just then, another text pings through. 

_Dinah: he's not in trouble, just a drama queen_

_Dinah: but still come over today_

No one replies, but they've all read it. Roy would bet dollars to doughnuts Connor and Mia are already on their way over - it's a little easier to make it to impromptu family meetings when you operate in the same city as, well, the family. Roy's on the complete other side of the country. 

"Hey, Walls, can I get a run over?" Roy asks, and turns to find Wally already holding his arms out, grinning smugly. 

"I was waiting for you to ask," he quips, and waits for Roy to approach. 

Roy sighs, stowing his phone before stepping over to hop up on Wally's back, bracing his arms on his shoulders to try and lessen the burden while Wally hooks his hands underneath his knees. He heaves Roy up with a grunt. 

"You sure this is okay?" Roy asks, his cheek pressed to Wally's ear. 

"Yeah, you're not nearly as heavy as Garth," Wally teases, then, mumbled under his breath. "Fucking dense underwater muscles." 

"How are you gonna get off the roof?" 

Wally jerks his chin to the adjacent building and grins. "I'm gonna jump." 

"With me on the your back? Hold the fuck up - " 

"Hold on!" Wally says, and Roy barely has time to shut his eyes tight before they're speeding away. 

\-- 

Wally deposits Roy on the front steps of Ollie's house in a whirlwind mess, pausing to say goodbye before whisking back to Keystone. Roy shoves his hat back into place and grumbles to himself as he straightens his clothes and adjusts the quiver strap. 

With a breath, he turns to the door and raises his hand to knock. It opens before his knuckles can even touch the wood. 

"Hey, Roy, good to see you," Connor says, beckoning him in with a smile. 

"Swear to god, you're like a predator," Roy sighs, but steps in obligingly. When the door shuts, he pulls Connor into a hug, ignoring how Connor's embrace squishes the bow to his back uncomfortably. "It's good to see you, Hawke." 

"Likewise, Harper." 

Connor's not in any of his vigilante gear, so Roy assumes it's safe to disarm, and leaves his bow and quiver in the entry hall before following Connor to the living room. 

What greets him in the living room is a strange sight. Namely, the entire family gathered together _without_ food, without a fight, and completely silent. Everyone looks up when he walks in, expectant gazes mixed with friendly waves. Roy returns the latter and takes an awkward seat in an empty armchair. 

"So, what's, uh, what's this about?" Roy asks, hesitantly glancing between Ollie and Dinah. 

"Christmas," Ollie says, which...doesn't help. Christmas is pretty routine in their extended household - dinner at Ollie's, Hal and Barry bring drinks, Connor makes dessert with whoever he can rope in, and everyone either crashes at the house or goes home before midnight. 

"O...kay?" Roy feels incredibly awkward in the serious, stuffy atmosphere. Mia's sitting on the floor, looking moderately bored, and Connor's lounging patiently on a sofa, his gaze directed towards Ollie and Dinah sitting together on the other sofa. 

"He hasn't told us anything yet," Mia says without looking up. "He was waiting for you." 

"Ah." Roy rubs the back of his neck, shrugging. "Sorry, I was in Keystone." 

"We know," Dinah says, and glances at Ollie expectantly. Ollie sighs and runs a hand over his face. 

"Okay, so, there's...well, there's kinda something I haven't told you," Ollie admits, which is equal parts fascinating and terrifying. Roy can feel the mood of the room perk up, all their attention on Ollie. 

"I've got family on the east coast," Ollie says. "A sister. And we don't - talk much, but we're still in touch - and anyway, she's just divorced her husband, so I invited her over for Christmas." 

Silence lingers for roughly three seconds before the room explodes in chatter. 

"A _sister_?!" 

"Dad, I have an _aunt_?" 

" _This_ was what the meeting was for?" 

"Ollie, this is the least important thing you've ever gathered us for - " 

"How does this change anything - " 

Ollie holds up a hand for silence, which they all grant with minimal grumbling. 

"She's got three kids," he continues. "Who are all coming over. Two of them have partners, who are _also_ visiting." 

"We have _cousins_?" Connor exclaims. "Ollie, what - " 

"Connie has no idea about Green Arrow," Ollie says, and the room goes dead. 

Then, quietly: 

" _Connie_?" Roy asks, can't help a hysterical giggle. "Is that why _Connor_ \- " 

"Yes and shut up," Ollie snaps, but his lips twitch with the threat of a smile. 

"I'm named after your sister, who I didn't even know existed?" Connor deadpans. 

"Are you surprised?" Mia asks him, arching an eyebrow. "This is _Green Arrow_ we're talking about. Names aren't exactly his strong suit." 

"Okay first of all, the media gave me that name," Ollie says, holding up a finger. "And second of all, I promised her she'd get to meet all of you, so you have to show up." 

"Aw, come _on_ , Ollie," Mia sighs. 

"You live here, you were gonna go anyway," Connor points out. 

Mia shrugs. "It's the principle of the thing." 

"How much does she know about us?" Dinah asks, cutting through the gentle chaos. Ollie runs a hand through his hair and pulls on his beard. 

"Well, thankfully, I've been pretty honest with her," he says. "She knows Roy and Mia are adopted, and she knows Connor's biologically mine, so none of that will be a surprise." 

"Oh, good, so I don't need to bleach my hair," Roy says, leaning back in the armchair. "What specifics does she know?" 

"Not much." Ollie points at each of them in turn. "Roy, I only said you were adopted from some family friends as a teen. Connor, she knows your mother primarily raised you and that she told me about you when you were a teenager. Mia, I said adopted out of the care system, again, a teenager. All of you are free to tell her any other personal details if you want, but otherwise I've only told her about your education - Connor, I've said you had regular schooling." 

Roy trades a glance with Connor and Mia, and a second later, they all nod. 

"Okay," he says, speaking for all of them. "That's...pretty good, Ollie. When is she coming over?" 

"She arrives this Saturday, and she's leaving after New Years, so she'll be staying with us for a couple of weeks." 

"Oh _god_ ," Mia murmurs. 

"It's okay, I'll swing by for you," Connor promises, nudging her side with his foot. "Save you from Ollie's mystery sister." 

"What about her kids?" Dinah prompts. Ollie braces his elbows on his knees and counts them off on his fingers. 

"There's Lillian, the oldest," he says. "Twenty-five, married to Josh. Both are coming; she's an accountant and he works in HR. Michael, twenty-one, works in retail, I think. He's not bringing anybody with him. Then Harry, they're seventeen and still in school, and they're bringing their girlfriend, Charlotte." 

"What about Connie herself?" Roy asks, raising an eyebrow. "Anything we need to know?" 

Ollie shrugs. "Not much. She's younger than me by a couple years. Lives in Boston, works in corporate finance. Her ex-husband is a scumbag called Dave, and I better not see any of you mention _anything_ about it." 

"Anything about who?" Mia asks, an innocent but meaningful smile on her face. Ollie reaches over to ruffle her hair and laughs when she bats him away. 

"They're all staying here?" Roy glances up at the ceiling, as if he can see the extra rooms scattered around. "Not in a hotel?" 

"I'm not putting my _sister_ in a _hotel_ ," Ollie scoffs. 

"We have room," Dinah assures them. "We're gonna move some things around today - Connor, we might have to store some of Ollie's... _arrows_ in your place, if that's okay?" 

"Yeah, that's fine, I was going to offer anyway." 

"And we'll still have room for you to stay over, if you want," Dinah says, this time directed at both Connor _and_ Roy. They share a look, then shrug. 

"Okay," Roy agrees. "I guess we'll meet her this Saturday, then." 

"Clean up a bit," Ollie tells all of them. He gestures to Roy with a smirk. "And maybe get rid of the hat." 


	2. December 20

Connie, it turns out, is just as much of a whirlwind as her brother. She's so _civilian_ it hurts a little, but she's bright and cheerful and blows through the house like a strong wind, suitcases still waiting by the road where the taxi dropped them off. She engulfs Ollie in a hug immediately, and drowns both him and Dinah in chatter while Roy, Connor, and Mia trade amused looks and quietly step outside to help the rest get their bags in. Mia heads for Lily and Josh, striking up an easy conversation as they organise their luggage, and Connor gravitates to Michael, who looks a bit odd standing by himself, just one bag by his arm. Which leaves Roy with Harry and Charlotte. 

"Hi," he says, waving at them as he approaches. He stops to hold out a hand to them, still smiling. "I'm Roy." 

"Roy," one of them says, turning the name over in their mouth before they shake his hand with a grin. "I'm Harry. This is Charlotte." 

Charlotte shakes his hand as well before Roy leans down to grab a duffel bag at her feet, shouldering it with ease as he gestures for Harry to pass him a suitcase. 

"It's okay, I got it," they say, but Roy rolls his eyes and gestures for it again. 

"Ollie might kill me if I'm not a good host," he says, glancing back at the doorway where Ollie and Connie are embroiled in conversation. 

"He looks like he could, too," Charlotte mutters, which makes Harry laugh loudly. 

"I dunno, I think Roy could hold his own," they say, following him up the drive. "Jeez, do all of you do like, wrestling or something?" 

"Something like that." 

There's a small kerfuffle at the door with getting everyone in, but soon enough Roy is assigned to showing Harry and Charlotte their room, and leads them upstairs to the far corner. He flings the door open with a dramatic little _ta-da_!, wiggling his fingers at the - surprisingly _neat_ room, actually. There's a couple dings in the ceiling, but other than that, you'd never know it was an armoury - an armoury now packed away completely into Connor's apartment, which is probably bursting with weapons by now. 

"Ollie assumed you guys would want to share a room," Roy says, setting the duffle down. "But if you want separate bedrooms, I can move ya." He lifts his cap - which he _did_ keep on, thank you very much - to push his hair out of his face and resettles it while Harry and Charlotte poke around the room. Charlotte throws open the curtains and peers out of the window, squinting down at the street below. 

"Sharing's fine," Harry replies, with smile towards Charlotte. It's cute. 

"Awesome." Roy jerks a thumb over his shoulder to the door opposite this one. "Well, I'm just across the hallway, so if you need anything, y'know." 

"I'm surprised you can fit all of us," Charlotte says, looking over her shoulder. "Connie's house almost explodes when we're all in it." 

"Big houses are a Queen trait," Harry jokes, holding up a fist to Roy. "Am I right?" 

Roy bumps their fist with a laugh. "I'm not really a Queen, but yeah." 

Harry's nose scrunches up with their confusion. "I thought you were adopted?" 

"Well, yeah, but I never really took on the name," Roy explains. "Or the family. It's - complicated." He waves a dismissive hand. "Anyway, I live in Manhattan with a bunch of friends, so I can't really speak to having a big house." Okay, it's a _tower_ , but that's a detail. Most of it is purposed for business anyway, there's only a couple floors for residential, so it really is more like a shared apartment. 

"Manhattan?" Harry raises an eyebrow. "I didn't realise you were that close to us." 

Roy shrugs. "I branched out. I had no idea Ollie had family out east." 

"I'm surprised he didn't tell you about us. We knew about you guys for...years, I guess. You're the oldest, right?" 

"That's me." Roy leans against the doorway, his hands in his pockets, and grins. "Oldest and prettiest." 

Charlotte snorts and comes over to sit on the bed, bouncing lightly on it. 

"Oh, Harry, this is _comfortable_ ," she says delightedly. Harry pushes on the bed and Roy can see the moment their neutrality fades into quiet appreciation. 

"Holy _shit_ ," they say. Okay, so maybe not so quiet. "I'm gonna sleep _so_ well tonight." 

"Same," Charlotte agrees, collapsing onto her back on the bed. Roy catches the meaningful look they share, and clears his throat awkwardly. Teenagers, never subtle. 

"Like I said, I'm across the hallway," he says. Then he grins, slow and deliberate, and gestures to the room in general. 

"The walls are soundproof," he says. Doesn't say it's because it was an _armoury_. "The door isn't. But if it helps, I'm not staying over every night." 

" _Soundproof_?" Harry laughs. 

Roy shrugs, and then, just to throw them a bone, "Yeah. I got up to all sorts of shit with my first boyfriend that Ollie _never_ knew about." He can pinpoint the moment Harry's eyes widen, snapping to his with their new shared bond. He winks, and steps out of the doorway to close the door on them. 

"I'll make sure to knock," he says. "Ollie's probably gonna expect us all down there in a few minutes, but feel free to use the furniture if you wanna unpack." 

\-- 

Turns out, Ollie's meeting was to deliver the wonderful news about the family dinner they'll all be enduring later. 

So now, Roy's in the kitchen, helping Ollie and Dinah prepare said dinner. 

"What the fuck do we _talk_ about," he hisses, quiet so Connie's family won't walk by and hear them apparently panicking over socialisation. 

"I don't know why you didn't just offer a _normal_ dinner," Dinah sighs, arranging Roy's diced vegetables in an oven dish as he cuts them. 

"Connie's a _big_ family person," Ollie says, working a spatula under his carefully watched steak. "I - look, it's what she would expect. _And_ it's our first time being all together, it would look weirder if I didn't suggest it. So just - focus on being a family, I guess." 

"Ollie, we're the most dysfunctional family this side of Central," Roy replies. Dinah hums in agreement. 

"Well, Connie doesn't know the half of it," Ollie says, pointing the spatula at Roy. "As far as she knows, you all lived with me and then moved out naturally. Apart from Mia, obviously." 

"So we're playing happy families for two weeks," Roy snarks, driving his knife down with perhaps more force than strictly necessary. He doesn't _mean_ to be annoyed about it, and he doesn't mean to take it out on Ollie. It's just _frustrating_. 

Usually Roy spends the holidays lazing around his room or with Connor and Mia or going out to _work_ , and this time he'll be fully cooped up. And he'll have to look happy while doing it, even though he doesn't typically stay over at Ollie's house until Christmas Eve and Christmas itself. Any other year, he's raring to get back out of the house, old bad blood and worse memories haunting him in the corners of his room that never felt like _his_ \- 

He likes Ollie. Really. He appreciates what he's done, and they've had numerous tentative conversations. Ollie's long apologised, sincerely, for things he did. Roy hasn't forgiven him, doesn't think he ever will, but he's agreed to accept that Ollie feels guilty. They're doing better. Roy will work with him without gritting his teeth, and Ollie doesn't try to overextend his authority as a mentor. 

Still, he isn't looking forward to staying over for most of two weeks, and he's looking forward even less to the unavoidable tensions that'll rise between him and Ollie. Hopefully, Connie's kids will be enough of a distraction for Roy to not get too bristly. 

"We'll get through it," Dinah says, offering him a half-smile. 

"Either way, it's on Ollie," Roy replies, pushing the diced peppers over to her. "I'm not fuckin' happy about it." 

\-- 

Dinner is awkward at first. Ollie tries to assert a conversation, but it falls flat when no one responds except for Connie and Dinah. Roy pokes at his food, trying to both work up the courage to start talking and push down his simmering resentment at the situation. It's not even that _bad_ of a situation; he's had worse, much worse, but he's also never been big on spending days on end cooped up with an entire family. 

"Oh, they're probably jet-lagged," Connie says, gesturing politely at her kids. "Sorry about that." 

"Hey, you were the one that made us get up at six," Harry complains. 

"Our flight wasn't until ten," Lily sighs. 

"I wanted to make sure we were there on time," Connie replies, laughing a little. 

"We were _three hours_ early," Mike says, dramatically dropping his head into his palm, and the table ripples with quiet laughter. Roy chews the inside of his cheek and trades a glance with Connor, then Mia. 

"Must run in the family," he says, leaning forward to see Mike down the table. "Ollie always made us get up four hours before any travelling." More like before a patrol, when they were sidekicks, but a close enough analogy. 

"Yeah, and it didn't even matter what _temperature_ it was," Mia adds, nudging Roy's foot across the table. "Even if it's completely freezing - " 

"Hey, _hey_ , there's no such thing as being over prepared," Ollie says, holding his hands out. 

"There _definitely_ is," Connor and Lily reply in unison - they look at each other for a moment, shocked, then break into laughter. 

"Rain or shine, she'll get us up before dawn if we're travelling anywhere before noon - " 

"Yeah! And it was a _school night_ \- " 

With the ice broken, conversation flows easily, teasing Ollie and Connie in equal measure. They take it more than graciously, laughing along and poking fun at each other in a manner that distinctly reminds Roy of teenagers. It's suddenly very apparent how similar they are, even with their different lives, and even Dinah joins in excitedly. It's a lot more bearable with everyone talking, so much so that Roy doesn't even flinch when someone nudges his elbow. 

"Thanks for dinner," Charlotte says, smiling brightly at him. 

"Wh - oh, it's no problem." Roy smiles back, shifting in his chair to face her better. "So is Ollie always like this at your Christmases?" 

"Oh, he's usually drunker," she replies, waving a dismissive hand. "I guess he's trying to make a better impression now since we're at _your_ house." 

Roy smiles through the false assumption. "Maybe. I hope you guys brought enough to do?" He arches an eyebrow. "It can get pretty boring around here." 

"I know Harry and Lily have brought some of their video games." Charlotte gestures to them as she speaks, as if to point them out. "A lot of party ones, I think, so you guys can join in, too." 

"Oh, it's Mia that's the real competition," Roy jokes. "Connor and I aren't nearly as good as her." 

"Hey, I better not hear you besmirching my reputation," Connor fires back, neatly switching to their conversation. 

" _Besmirching_?" Roy teases. "Who are you tryin' to impress?" 

"It was funnier than _tarnishing_." 

Connor smoothly joins their conversation after that, calmly steering the subject back to safer ground than personal teasing. It's a delicate balance they all have to uphold here, sticking to safe topics and avoiding anything potentially revealing - Connor's in long sleeves to hide the scars on his forearms, and Mia's got some subtle leather cuffs around her wrists to hide some healing cuff bruises. Ollie and Dinah are freer about showing their arms - it looks better for them as adults to have some unfortunate scrapes than the kids - and so far, no one's commented on it. 

Roy doesn't have much, if any, sign of his career on his exposed arms, so he's still in a T-shirt just so it's not _too_ suspicious that they're all covering up. Of course, it leaves another trail of marks completely visible down the inside of his left arm, and even though he's caught a couple glances towards it, no one's dared to ask him about them yet. Hopefully it'll stay that way, out of pure courtesy. 

It's probably overkill how much they're hiding, but when one of your best friends hails from a family of trained detectives, it gets hard to remember what overthinking feels like. 

It's also completely bizarre to hear about civilian life experiences in the _same family_. Vigilantism usually touches an entire family, willingly or not, so it's entirely novel to hear about Ollie's and Connie's entirely separate paths - it's downright _weird_ to hear her kids talk about their lives, too, when at Harry's age Roy was knee-deep in crimefighting and six months in rehab. 

The differences are _staggering_. Mike talks about his retail job, and Connor nudges his sleeve up to cover the semicircle of a scar he got from journeying around with Kyle. With a _Green fucking Lantern_. Lily and Josh are _married_ , and Lily talks about old family trips that happened at around the time Roy was losing his virginity to a low-grade celebrity. Harry and Charlotte are still in _high school_. They're still complaining about teachers, when at their age, Mia was - involved in things Roy hates to consider for her. 

He can see the doubt on Connor's and Mia's faces as well, none of them able to parry stories with ones of their own because they don't _have_ any normal stories. Connor tells watered-down tales from the monastery - his "schooling" - and Roy dodges anything intensely personal, talking instead about his friends, when he can. The Titans are easy enough to summarise down to vague personalities. Mia can actually bond over current high school with Harry and Charlotte, although her pop culture is a little shakier than theirs. 

Overall, though, dinner goes smoother than expected. Connor gathers up the plates, and Roy jumps to help him, eager to escape the dining table even for a moment. 

"That was tougher than I thought it would be," Connor sighs, pushing his sleeves up as Roy opens the dishwasher, the kitchen door safely closed behind them. 

"You're telling me." Roy unloads the dishes while Connor rinses the new ones. "God, when Connie asked Mia about her _major_ I was half sure she was about to bolt. Is Mia even applying to college?" 

Connor shrugs. "Don't think so." He grins. "Can't wait for _your_ interrogation." 

"Yeah, that'll go well," Roy scoffs. "Barely finished high school, Connie, didn't go to college, but yeah I know how to do full field surgery." 

Connor snorts, wiping his wet hands on a towel before handing plates over to Roy to stack inside the dishwasher. 

"As long as only one of us mentions archery, we should be good," he says. 

"We're completely screwed when Hal and Barry get here," Roy replies. 

Connor nods sagely. "Yeah, then we're totally fucked." 


	3. December 21-22

For a brief, peaceful moment, Roy forgets where he is when he wakes up with his face smushed into a pillow. His blissful ignorance lingers for as long as it takes to roll over and stretch, and is abruptly shattered when his arm thumps against the wall, and he flops back with a groan. Ollie's and Dinah's house. Christmas. _Connie's family_. 

Roy throws an arm over his eyes and sighs heavily. His phone buzzes beside him with the family group chat. A reluctant glances tells him it's Dinah, letting them know she's going out with Lily and Mike to get groceries. Then a message from Mia, letting Roy and Connor know there's waffles downstairs. 

Roy does _not_ want to go downstairs. He's not nearly ready for a full day of forced family socialising, but at least Connor and Mia are in this with him. He's slow to get up, slower to brush his teeth, leans against the shower wall and daydreams for a bit while water beats his hair flat to his head. Wastes another couple minutes with his right hand and something familiarly pleasant, spends as much as he can getting dressed, and then finally, finally shoves on his slippers and reluctantly leaves the room. 

He makes it almost to the kitchen before Mia nearly crashes into him, holding two full plates. He backpedals hurriedly, holding up his hands. 

"Oh thank god," Mia sighs, handing a plate to him. " _Please_ tell me we can go to your room." 

"My room?" 

Mia jerks her thumb over her shoulder and leans in with a conspiratorial whisper. "They're _morning_ people." She even shudders for dramatic effect, and Roy laughs even as he starts shuffling towards the stairs. 

"Yeah, okay, I don't think even I can take that this early," he agrees, leading Mia up the stairs and back down the hallway to his room. 

They end up on the floor by his bed in companionable silence, amicably knocking knees and elbows as they scroll their phones to catch up on notifications. The waffles are topped with artfully sliced fruit - Connor's touch - and powdered sugar - Dinah's - and they go a long way to improving Roy's mood. By the time they're finished, half an hour later, they're even chatting idly, which is something Mia usually tries to avoid before eleven even on a school day. 

Roy knows he can't avoid downstairs forever. So does Mia, judging by her resigned sigh when she stands up to leave. Roy trails after her reluctantly, stacking their plates in the dishwasher before drifting to the living room, where the noise is loudest. The rest of the family are gathered on the sofas, a mix of pleasant conversation and quiet activities blending into a weird simile of family bonding. Ollie gives him a friendly wave, Dinah beckons him in, and Roy greets Connie with a nod before settling down beside Connor and Josh on the floor, where they're setting up Xbox controllers. 

"Roy, hey, we're just about to start up some Halo," Connor says, gesturing to the black TV screen. Roy leans over to turn it on, and the Xbox home screen blooms to life while Connor pops batteries into the back of the controller. 

"You wanna take turns?" Josh asks. "I'm terrible at FPS, so you'll definitely have a chance of swapping in." 

"I'll watch." Roy claps Connor on the shoulder and grins. "Connor's got awful aim, too. Should be fun." 

Connor glares at him, and Roy just squeezes his shoulder harder and grins wider. 

\-- 

The firepit isn't _really_ built for eleven people, but they huddle up around it anyway, crammed together on wooden benches with cushions on the seats and blankets thrown around their shoulders. The chill was almost enough to dissuade them from this entire idea, but Connie's hot chocolate swayed them all in favour of spending some time out here, jabbing marshmallows on sticks and fighting for space over the fire. Mia toasts hers until they're nearly dripping, and Josh comes out with a few blackened soldiers, frowning sadly at them before Lily smooshes them between two graham crackers and eats it for herself instead. 

Roy tugs a corner of the blanket tighter around himself and knocks his mug against Connor's wrist, offering him some of the warmth. Connor curls his hand around it gratefully, his nose pink from the cold. A gentle swell of chatter rises from the group around them, but Roy's content to sit in Connor's comfortable silence. 

It hasn't actually been a terrible day, despite Roy's pessimistic morning. He ended up spending most of the day downstairs with Connie's family, and without the dinner expectations or formality, they got along much more smoothly. Roy knows about Harry's favourite video games now, about Charlotte's aspiring novelist career, about Connie's jack o'lantern contest she hosts for her neighbourhood every Halloween. 

He's picked up small, inconsequential facts about everyone, which feels both strange and novel all at the same time. It's completely unlike how he met anyone else in his family - that usually came with a lot more baggage on both sides, and typically with some sort of mask involved - and he'd never admit it to Ollie's face, but he's hesitantly _enjoying_ himself with them. Even the quiet bubble he shares with Connor now isn't broken by their presence; instead, the hush of conversation glides by them smoothly, everyone huddled into intimate groups around the flickering flames. 

For the first time since Ollie called the family meeting, Roy's feeling optimistic about Christmas. Maybe this year they'll avoid the annual argument, and maybe Roy will finally have a peaceful, uneventful holiday. 

It's a tall order, but as he looks around the familiar faces at the fire, he finds himself fervently hoping this year can be different from all the last. 

\-- 

The third night feels much more doable than the first - maybe it's the lighter meal, or the fact that they're gathered much more informally around the table now, half of them still in pyjamas to protect from the pervasive chill downstairs. Roy's tuned out most of the conversation so far, only half-listening with one ear as he works through his plate of spaghetti. Ollie, Dinah, and Connie have been discussing Christmas plans, boring things like dinner and drinks and activities, and other attendants are mumbling private conversation amongst themselves, only chiming in every so often when asked a question. 

"Is there anyone else coming?" Connie asks. Roy's ears metaphorically prick up. So far, it's just Hal and Barry - which, all good fun, but Roy is secretly desperately hoping that maybe they'll bring someone with them, ideally someone closer to Roy's age. 

"Yeah, there's a couple family friends who'll be here tomorrow," Ollie says. "I don't know if any of the kids are bringing anybody - Mia, are you bringing any friends over?" 

"Nah, they're all busy." 

"Connor, what about you?" Ollie waggles his eyebrows. "Anyone special?"

Connor shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "I - no, not - no." 

"Maybe next year, huh?" Roy teases, nudging him with his elbow. Connor shoots him a look. 

Connie laughs politely. "God, I had to wait a whole summer for Harry to finally bring Charlotte around." 

"I thought we agreed we weren't embarrassing me at uncle Ollie's, _mom_ ," Harry says, leaning forward to look past Mia at Connie. 

" _You_ agreed that," Connie replies, and cracks up loudly at Harry's offended gasp, but there's a smile on their face, so Roy's not too worried about an imminent family implosion. It gets the heat off Connor, who turns quietly back to his food, and Roy's trying to eye up if he can reach the water pitcher from here without grazing Mia's food - 

"Surely _you're_ bringing someone?" Connie asks, turning back to Roy with her eyes wide and interested. Roy opens his mouth and snaps it shut when he doesn't know what to say. The answer's a no, since all the other Titans are busy, but he feels, weirdly, like it would _disappoint_ Connie, even though she probably doesn't care either way - 

"A handsome man like you?" she teases, kindly, and it reminds him _so_ much of Ollie he almost responds with a middle finger. Her gaze weighs heavy on him, clearly expecting an answer, clearly expecting a _yes_ , and no one else is bringing anybody - 

"I - yeah," he blurts out. Kicks himself under the table, and Connie's expectant gaze flips into _excited_. Roy scrambles to cover his ass. "He's - not here yet, he's coming over later this week?" 

The conversation at the head of the table immediately stops - well, not completely, but Ollie definitely tears from his chatter to stare at Roy across the table, a mixture of _you idiot_ and amusement on his face. A lump of belated panic springs up in Roy's throat. 

"Oh, awesome!" Connie exclaims, setting down her drink. "I'm so excited to meet him, Ollie hadn't told me you had anyone special in your life." 

Anyone - oh _no_ , she didn't mean a _friend_. Oh _god_. 

"Ollie, what did I tell you about telling me things like this?" Connie teases, and starts playfully bickering with Ollie before Roy has a chance to correct her. 

"Must've slipped my mind, Con." 

"Oh, we don't know much about it," Dinah says, sliding a hand smoothly over Ollie's. "We only - learnt of it recently. With Roy all the way in New York, it's hard to catch up sometimes." 

"Well, it'll be _lovely_ to have him over." Connie practically vibrates in her seat as she turns back to Roy. 

Oh, he _really_ doesn't want to disappoint her. Poor lady's just gone through a wringer of a divorce, Roy doesn't have the heart to crush her holiday spirit. Dinah raises an amused eyebrow across the table. Roy swallows nervously. 

"Yeah, it'll be great," he agrees, and plasters on a smile through the rest of dinner. 

\-- 

"Oh god, I've completely fucked myself," Roy groans into his arms, slumped over the dining table at Titans Tower. He'd hopped a Star City zeta back to Manhattan just to panic, which is successfully underway. 

"There, there, it's okay," Donna says, her mouth pushed into a mocking pout. Roy kicks her foot. She kicks him in return but resumes stroking his back, warm and comforting through his T-shirt. 

"Look, it's not _that_ bad," she says. 

"I already said 'he'," Roy says glumly. "So that takes you and Lilith out. My _easiest_ options." 

"C'mon, there's got to be _someone_." 

Just then, Wally walks into the kitchen, an empty plate in his hands. 

"Why is there someone?" He asks, heading to the snack cupboard. 

"Roy told Ollie's sister he was bringing a date," Donna explains. 

"I'm _single_ ," Roy whines, turning back to press his forehead into his forearm. "Dick's in Gotham - and anyway, they're from _Boston_ , so they might recognise _Dick Grayson_. And - " 

"I can run over," Wally offers. "I'm going to Gotham for Christmas, but I can go back and forth for a couple days." 

"No, no, I can't ask you to do that," Roy sighs. Then frowns. "You're not doing it with Barry? In Central?" 

Wally makes a disagreeing noise. "No, we all did Hanukkah together with Hal in Coast. That's why they're splitting to yours this Christmas, and I'm going to Gotham." A bag rustles open. "Don't know what the other Flashes are doing yet." 

"Still, I can't ask you to do that," Roy says. "Stay in Gotham with your _actual_ boyfriend." 

On his way out, Wally stops by to squeeze his shoulder. 

"Garth's here, if you want to ask him," he says, and leaves a moment later. Roy's brain grinds to a halt. 

"Garth's here?" He raises his head to look at Donna, who shrugs. 

"Must have gotten in before me," she says. Then smirks at him, completely and utterly wicked. "You could ask _him_." 

" _No_. I'm not asking _Garth_ ," he replies, lowering his head once more. "Who else do we know?" 

Donna stays with him for a couple more hours, running through a list of people they know - anyone obviously nonhuman is discounted, and anyone with superpowers is tentatively rejected, because Roy doesn't think he could handle someone accidentally breaking a wine glass with their bare hands. 

Eventually, she has to peel off to go to bed, leaving Roy in his misery in the living room. There really isn't anyone that falls into his really specific category - age-appropriate, human, not _over_ powered, and not already busy. 

When it comes down to it, all he's left with is Kyle. Who's dancing circles around Connor, and it would probably be cruel to invite him as _his_ boyfriend when Connor's been making puppy dog eyes at him. 

With no other good options, he drags himself off the sofa to go get ready for bed. He'll sleep on it. 

But when he trudges past Garth's closed door, he pauses. There's light coming out from underneath it. Which means Garth's likely still awake. And he's Roy's age, he's not a celebrity on land, and he's not, really, _super_ overpowered - nothing that can accidentally reveal itself, anyway, like super strength or speed - and, perhaps most importantly, he's not doing anything for Christmas. 

Before he can stop himself, Roy knocks. He's almost hoping Garth's asleep, or doesn't want visitors, but then Garth invites him in and, well, guess it's time to face the music. 

"What's up?" Garth asks, tossing his controller aside to pay attention to Roy. He smiles, and Roy's stomach ties knots around itself. 

"Hey," he says. He sounds flat even to his own ears, but Garth pats the end of his bed and Roy sits down obediently, fiddling with his fingers. 

"I didn't know you were here tonight," Garth says, scooting forward. He tucks his hair behind his ear and flicks Roy's knee. "You okay?" 

"I'm fine," Roy answers. It's a mistake meeting Garth's eyes, because his heart skips a beat and trips into overtime to make up for it. He wonders if Garth can hear it. 

"Ollie invited his civilian sister over for Christmas," he sighs. "And all her kids. And I kinda - I told her I had a date for Christmas." 

"A date?" Garth lifts an eyebrow. "Donna?" 

Roy shakes his head. "I said 'he'." He winces. "So I'm kinda fucked. Everyone's either too old, too young, or already trying to ask out my brother." He pauses. "Or too busy." 

"Ah." Garth nods, and glances away. "Can you make an excuse for him?" 

"I - yeah, but...I don't _want_ to." Roy blows out a heavy breath, and fixes his gaze on Garth's fingers, still resting on Roy's knee. "Look, she just got out of a _bad_ divorce, and Ollie's doing all this to cheer her up, so I don't wanna put a damper on it." 

Garth hums in acknowledgement. Roy inhales sharply and figures he'd better rip off the Band-Aid. 

"Anyway, if you're not - if you don't mind, do you - can you pretend to be my boyfriend for Christmas?" 

He asks it in a rush of breath, so fast he's not sure Garth heard him for a second, when he doesn't react. Then Garth's gaze swings around to him again, a smile growing on his face, and Roy _knows_ he's blushing but he can't exactly stop it. He meets Garth's eyes as coolly as he can, resolutely ignoring the thudding drum of his heartbeat. 

"Yeah, okay," Garth says. Roy blinks. _Surely_ he heard that wrong. Surely Garth isn't just agreeing to a completely random fucking plot - 

"I've never been to a Queen party," Garth adds, complete with a _wink_. "I've heard they're fun." 

"They're - are you sure?" Roy scrutinises him for any doubt, any regret, but Garth's just smiling openly, entirely pleasant. 

"I'm sure." The fingers on Roy's knee creep up so Garth's palm can rest on it instead, squeezing gently. "Roy, calm down, you look like you're about to suffocate." 

"I - " Roy blows out the breath he hadn't realised he was holding, and giggles a little hysterically. "I wasn't expecting a _yes_." 

"It's always a yes for you." Garth grins, and lets go of his knee. "So go on, run me through it, what do I have to do?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm at [halifax-jordan](https://halifax-jordan.tumblr.com) on Tumblr, come say hi!


	4. December 23

The party hasn't started yet when Roy shows up at Ollie's alone the next morning. He _was_ supposed to show up with Garth, but Garth had insisted he needed to pack a couple things, and had pushed Roy through the zeta before he could protest much more. 

They had made some ground rules on general...everything. They had agreed Garth should just stay over, to cut down on travel and to help sell the lie. Agreed on holding hands in public, agreed on being okay with some light PDA, because fuck if Connie's family wasn't affectionate - Roy's not sure he's ever _seen_ more couple-y couples than Lily and Mike and Harry and Charlotte, and he was around when Dick was dating Barbara. 

Ollie always does his parties on the 23rd, not Christmas Eve, because the 23rd is when everyone typically gets in, and partying then means that people won't be hungover on Christmas Day itself. Which means Roy only has a couple hours before he gets roped into helping setting up, so he heads in without preamble to spend some time in his room hopefully not surrounded by his family, extended or not. 

Or not, because at the top of the stairs, Dinah lays in wait for him, calmly tapping her nails against the railing. 

"What is it?" He sighs, slumping against the wall. 

"A date, huh?" She grins at him, her eyes sparkling with mirth. 

"Shut up, I've fixed it," Roy grumbles, and makes to leave, but Dinah grabs his arm before he can go far. 

"Ollie's taken Connie out to get drinks for tonight," she says. Roy already knows where this is going, and holds his hand out for the car keys. Dinah drops them into his palm. 

"Do we have a catering order?" He asks. Dinah sighs. 

"I _thought_ we did," she sighs, "but Ollie didn't do one this year. He didn't expect a big gathering." 

Roy huffs a laugh. "Yeah, I bet he didn't." He swings the keys around a finger and grins at her. "You coming with me?" 

"Actually, no." Dinah gestures to one of the doors in the hallway. "Take Michael." 

"All right. Any allergies? Anything I should avoid?" 

"Nope." Dinah waves him towards the door and leaves down the stairs with a "Have fun!" thrown over her shoulder. 

Roy folds the keys against his palm and knocks on the door to Michael's room, bowing his head as he waits for the shuffling inside to come closer. He isn't thrilled about being chosen for food duty, but someone has to, and he needs an extra pair of hands. He hasn't many chances to speak with Michael one-on-one, which is probably Dinah's plan, but hey, Roy's never complained about company. 

"Yeah?" Michael opens the door all the way, looking Roy up and down with a furrow in his brow. A smile cracks over his face a second later. "Roy, hi." 

"Hey, Mike," he greets, with a sheepish little wave. "Dinah's tapped me for the food run, and I need an extra set of hands to get it all in the car." 

"For tonight?" 

"Yeah." Roy grins. "You wouldn't believe how much we can pack away." 

"Let me just get my shoes on." Mike ducks behind the door to grab a pair of boots, crouching down to zip them up over his ankles while Roy waits. Mike glances up at him through messy black hair, a question in the lift of his eyebrows. 

"Do I need to bring money?" He asks. "To split it?" 

Roy shakes his head. "Christmas is on us this year." 

"That seems like it'd be expensive," Mike quips, shutting the door behind him before following Roy down the stairs. 

Roy shrugs. "We pool it. We've all got pretty decent jobs." 

"Hey, if you say so, man." 

Roy shoulders open the front door and unlocks Dinah's car to get them out of the chill, decidedly sharper than it was a couple days ago. Mike tugs up the collar on his jacket and folds into the car just before Roy, shuffling to get comfortable in the seat. 

As always, Roy has to adjust the seat, reaching down to tug it forward. Damn Dinah and her near-Amazonian build. The steering wheel comes down an inch, and then he's backing calmly out of the drive, putting an arm across the seats to glance behind at the road. 

"So what are we getting?" Mike asks a few minutes into the drive. Roy flicks on the heat. 

"General party snacks," he answers. "Y'know, chips, dip, finger food kinda stuff. There's a couple family friends coming by as well, but they always bring food so it evens out." He gestures vaguely in the direction of city centre. "Ollie and your mom went out to get the alcohol." 

Mike laughs. "If mom has her way, it'll all be wine." 

Roy snickers. "If Ollie has his, it'll be cheap beer." 

"So there's no chance of anything good?" Mike jokes, stretching his legs out into the well. "Damn." 

"Our friends sometimes bring eggnog," Roy teases, glancing at him out the corner of his eye. Mike pulls a face. 

"Lucky for you," Roy continues, "I'm the best at snacks, so you'll have something good to eat with whatever shit they bring back." 

"Honestly, I thought you'd be assigned to alcohol duty," Mike says. "You're over 21, right?" 

"I'm way over 21," Roy says, and shakes his head. "But I don't drink." 

"Oh, sorry," Mike says, but Roy dismisses it with a wave. 

"Don't worry about it," he assures him, flashing a smile when he rolls to a stop at a traffic light. 

He's not too concerned about the party and the alcohol, all things considered. Ollie and Dinah have always been careful with it in past years, staying with a sensible amount of drinking whenever Roy's around, and only adding more after he disappears upstairs for the night, which he doesn't mind. But mostly, he's not too concerned because he confronted Ollie and Dinah about it in their bedroom the day after Connie arrived, and both had promised him they'd keep an eye on everyone's drinking during the main gathering. 

Regardless of general sobriety levels, Roy plans on making his usual early exit before midnight, because there's only so long he can stand to be around his family before it starts to grate, and without the vigilante stories to fall back on? He assumes the evening will tire more quickly than usual, tonight. 

\-- 

Roy's glad he has an en suite in his childhood bedroom, because otherwise he has no excuse for how long he's spent in here already. 

It's possible he's overreacting a bit. But _Garth's_ coming over later, whenever he can make it out of whatever mystery errand he's on, and Roy's not exactly confident that his usual charm and smarm can smooth this all over to Connie and her family. Not when it's _Garth_ , and - yeah, it's a fake date, but Roy's dressing as if it's the real thing, partly to help sell the story but mostly because he wishes it _was_ real. 

Mostly, he's worried he'll end up being a fumbling mess, which will only end up as fodder for his family, and probably embarrassing remarks from Connie's family, 

He puts down the comb with a frustrated sigh and stares at himself in the mirror. Decides his hair looks too flat combed, so he ruffles his hands through it until it's a mess again. A few careful strokes later, he deems it worthy enough for the party, and sets to fiddling with his cufflinks instead. They're blue, because it's all he could find rattling around in his suitcase, and they slip easily into their slits, resting on the pristine white like sparkling gems. 

Roy frowns in the mirror at his image. White dress shirt, black jeans, _cufflinks_. He feels way too dolled up for a family Christmas, but they're all making a little bit of effort this year for Connie. He undoes the top two buttons on his shirt before deeming himself appropriately dressed enough to go down. 

The party is just getting into swing when he joins the gathering crowd downstairs. There's finger food laid out in the kitchen, drinks in the living room, and a game console already turned on with the big TV. In the corner sits the Christmas tree, fat and decorated, with gifts pushed underneath - squished into double from Connie's family, and from the presents they all had to scramble to get last-minute. Thankfully with their...connections, it was a little easier to find good ideas. 

"Roy! Thought you'd gotten lost on your way down," Ollie jokes, slapping an arm around his shoulders. 

"Hilarious," Roy deadpans, but squeezes Ollie in a hug anyway before peeling himself away to join the children's group, as it were. Connor steps aside easily to make room for him in the circle, and even offers him pickings from his snack plate. 

"I thought Hal and Barry would be here by now," Roy comments, scraping together a heap of cheese onto a thin cracker. Connor watches with detached interest, an amused smile playing in the corners of his mouth as the paper plate dents and wobbles. 

"Are they the family friends?" Mike asks, perched on the back of the sofa. 

"Yeah," Mia answers, not even looking up from whatever she's doing with Harry on their phone. 

"I'm sure they'll be here soon," Connor says. 

"Well, I give it half an hour before someone beelines to the console," Roy says, and tips the cheese-laden cracker into his mouth. 

It was a good idea to fuss over his appearance, because the whole family seems to have gotten the silent memo of dressing up a little neater for today - Ollie's usually in some sort of dapper outfit, but even _Mia_ has made an effort today, her slacks pressed into neat creases down the front. Connor looks effortlessly fancy, as always, which Roy can never compete with despite being older, and all of Connie's family are dressed rather smartly. 

To Ollie and Dinah's credit, the evening is fairly lowkey, so far. The living room and connected kitchen are big, but intimate, with family photos and decorations filling in the hidden gaps. There's personal touches all over, from the DVDs in the TV bench to the charmingly crooked hat stand peeking out of the entry hallway, and although it might feel formal to any other guests, to Roy, it feels overwhelmingly normal. There's no alcohol flowing yet, and the food has barely been touched, but he knows it's only a matter of hours before the night starts getting interesting. 

Quiet Christmas music plays over hidden speakers, gently filtering in among the chatter. Ollie and Dinah are currently engaged in conversation with Connie and Lily, with loud, abrupt laughter interrupting their stream every so often. Roy's chosen to blend into the group with Connor, Mia, and Harry, while Charlotte and Josh deliberate over the offerings in the connected kitchen. 

It's almost double the people they normally have over, but Roy has to admit, Connie's family mesh pretty well with theirs - terrifying well, in fact, because it's barely twenty minutes before Connor and Harry are challenging each other to Mario Kart, and they gravitate to the TV as one group, slouching on sofas or on the floor directly. 

"What's happening?" Charlotte asks, her arms full with drinks. She plops down beside Roy on the sofa and starts handing out cans of soda and bottles of water, which Roy takes gratefully, his mouth basically the fucking desert after eating all of Connor's cheese. 

"Mario Kart," Mia answers, cracking a wide grin. "Tournament." 

"Don't worry, the party'll liven up when Hal and Barry get here," Roy says to Josh, who looks a little torn between staying with their group or going over to Lily. "This is just an excuse to hang out for a bit before dinner." 

"That's not what I'm worried about," Josh says, glancing between Lily and the console. "I'm worried about when Lily comes over." 

"Lily's the best in the family," Harry supplies. The game pops into the main menu on the screen, and Connor and Harry immediately dive into choosing their characters and cars. 

"Best in the family, huh?" Mia says. She grins, all shark. "That sounds like a challenge." 

"I think you'll find Mia's the best in this half of the family," Roy stage-whispers to Josh, waggling his eyebrows. "I think your wife's gonna have to come defend her honour." 

Josh narrows his eyes. "Oh, you're _on_ , Mia." 

\-- 

An hour and a half of Mario Kart championships ends up dividing the living room almost directly in half. Bets have been made, money has been put down, chores have been wagered, it's gotten completely out of hand and entirely messy and Roy, for one, is enjoying the _fuck_ out of it. He's put his money on Mia, along with Connor, Dinah, and Charlotte, who's been labelled a traitor; the others have all backed Lily, _including_ Ollie, the _other_ traitor, and it's only a knock on the door that interrupts the raucous cheering in the middle of the deciding race. 

"Fuck, I got it," Ollie says, pushing himself up from the sofa to get to the front door. Lily whips a blue shell behind her that Mia narrowly avoids, and during the ensuing whooping is exactly when Hal and Barry walk into the living room, loaded with bags. Hal's carrying a crate of eggnog cartons, condensation still dripping on them, and his hair looks appropriately windswept. 

"Wow, this is lively," Barry says, dropping the bags while Ollie takes the crate off Hal, grunting at the weight. Roy watches Hal quickly slide off and pocket his ring, and Barry do the same a moment later, leaving just their wedding rings. 

"Jesus Christ, how much did you bring?" Ollie complains - Dinah hops over the back of the sofa to help him with the load, and waves Hal and Barry to the rest of them while they take care of storing all the new food and drink they brought. Barry goes to stow a suspicious bag underneath the tree. 

"Hey, Hal," Roy says, tipping his head back on the sofa to grin up at Hal upside down. "You took your time getting here. Barry getting slow in his old age?" 

Hal plants his hand on Roy's face and ruffles him, while Roy laughs so hard he almost fucking suffocates. 

"I see you haven't stopped being a little shit," Hal jokes, and removes his hand to smile sweetly at Connie on the other sofa. "Hi, I'm Hal, one of Ollie's friends. You must be Connie?" 

"Oh! Yes, hi - oh, yes, let me come over to you," Connie says, delightedly picking her way out of the tangled crowd. 

"She's a hugger," Roy whispers up to Hal. Moments later, Connie engulfs him in her perfumed embrace, squeezing so tight Roy swears he can see Hal's eyes pop out of his head. 

"I've heard a lot about you!" Connie says when she lets him go, holding him at arms length. She perks up when Barry appears beside Hal. "And you must be Barry!" 

"The man, the myth, the legend," Roy quips, and Hal shoves his head back upright to watch the TV. 

He lets them talk amongst themselves while the race rounds out - it gets tense in the final lap, all of them leaning forward to watch Mia and Lily play in absolute, deafening silence, both of their faces scrunched up in concentration. There's a couple banana peels, and some criminal red shells, but no one gets hit - 

"Fuck!" Mia shouts as Lily drifts past the finish line, finishing firmly in first. Mia coasts in _milliseconds_ behind her, collapsing dramatically on the floor as Lily joins the shouted cheering. Roy loses twenty dollars to Harry with a sigh, then pulls them in to mess up their hair - Harry shrieks and squirms, but there's no one to help them in the new chaos that's descended on the living room. 

Mario Kart gets broken up by Hal and Barry's arrival, the family scattered into new and much more boisterous groups now that the "real party has arrived", to quote Hal. Roy ends up laughing over bad family photos with Mike and Harry, a bottle of water in his hands now that people have started breaking into the alcohol - Barry included, which, honestly, might be the funnest consequence of hiding their identities. Because Hal doesn't drink, and Barry _can't_ get drunk off of normal human levels of drinking, and personally, Roy's looking forward to Barry realising he has to pretend to get drunk when the civilians start doubting exactly how many glasses he's had. 

It has to be almost another half an hour before the doorbell rings again, and Roy doesn't pay much attention to it before he remembers who it is, and abruptly stiffens on the sofa. 

"Wait, I got it!" He calls, vaulting over the back of the sofa to interrupt Ollie's collision course with the entry hall, stalling him with a look before he ventures to the front door. 

He takes a moment to steel himself before opening it. It's just Garth, he reminds himself. It's just your best friend, Harper, nothing more, nothing less. He's agreed to a ridiculous plan, because he's your _best friend_ , and it'll be nice to experience Christmas with him _just as a friend_ \- 

"Hope I'm not too late," Garth says, and Roy's jaw drops open without his input. 

Oh, he is _not_ prepared for spending a whole week together if Garth insists on looking like _this_. The jeans are well-fitting, the button-down is pristine, and the suit jacket thrown on over top is almost too much for Roy, and he definitely should have asked Wally to fake for him instead because then at least he wouldn't get butterflies like he does now when Garth smiles at him, disarmingly handsome. Garth casually looks him over, his gaze raking over Roy like hot coals, and Roy has the sudden urge to rip off his clothes and run straight into the chilly road just to try and cool down. 

"I - uh, I - no, you're not," he stammers out. Despite the hot itch under his collar, he feels frozen in place, just _staring_ at Garth, a modest little suitcase parked behind him. Garth lifts his hand, holding up something wrapped in gold paper. 

"I brought your present," he says, with a charming little smile that makes Roy's stomach twist over itself. 

He didn't even _think_ about getting Garth a present, or think about how it would look - 

"Oh! Hello, you must be Roy's mystery man," Connie says from behind him, startling him with a jolt. 

"I - yeah, this is - Garth," he says, pushing himself into motion - takes the gift from Garth, flashes him a smile, takes his wrist to gently tug him inside, the suitcase bumping clumsily up the step. "Garth, this is Connie, Ollie's sister." 

"It's nice to meet you," Garth says to her, smoothly letting go of Roy to shake her hand. "I've heard a lot about you." 

"All good things, I hope." Connie leans forward to drape an arm over Garth's shoulders and hug him, which is nothing short of hilarious considering Garth pushes six foot and Connie's shorter than Roy. Still, Garth relaxes easily into the motion, one hand coming up to press familiarly against her back before they let go of each other. 

"So, you're staying over?" Connie asks, gesturing to the suitcase. 

"If Roy'll have me," Garth teases, glancing his way. Now, banter, Roy can easily fall into. Except instead of slapping Garth's arm, he hooks their elbows together and laughs. 

"I guess it wouldn't be right to let you sleep on the sofa," he jokes, and shares a laugh with Connie before making his excuses to drag Garth through the hall and up the stairs. 

On their way past the living room, Ollie catches sight of them, his eyebrows disappearing swiftly into his hairline as he mouths _Garth?!_ behind Lily's back. Roy slides his hand across his throat in a threatening gesture, and watches Hal and Barry's eyes widen, too, plainly and obviously amused. 

Before Roy can get too many knowing stares from his vigilante fucking family, he gets them upstairs, letting go of Garth's arm once they're alone to lead him down the hallway and to the farther corner of the house. 

"This is my - _our_ room," Roy says as he pushes open the door to reveal the small bedroom. One dresser, one wardrobe, and, yes, the damning twin bed. He winces. "Sorry about the bed, but since Hal and Barry are staying over, we don't have any guest rooms. I can get some blankets and sleep on the floor - " 

"Roy, it's okay." Garth parks the suitcase by the door and Roy lets it fall shut, trapping them both in the silence of his childhood bedroom. Garth cracks a grin at him. "We've done worse." 

Roy lets out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding and nods, letting himself smile. "Yeah - yeah, we have." He gestures weakly around the room. "You can put your clothes in the dresser. The bathroom's through there. Feel free to make yourself at home." 

Garth hums thoughtfully as he looks around the room. His gaze falls back on Roy after a cursory sweep, and Roy finds himself suddenly, horrendously self-conscious of how _stupid_ he looks in this getup - 

"You look nice," Garth says. Roy scoffs. 

"Uh-huh, get all your teasing out now." 

"No, I mean it," Garth insists, his voice softer now. "You look good, Roy." 

Oh, that _does_ things to Roy. For one, his self-esteem goes through the fucking roof, and two, now he's struggling with what to say in return. 

"You clean up pretty well yourself," he goes with, running a finger underneath the lapel of Garth's jacket. He smiles to try and diffuse the tension he's created. "Guess I gotta thank you for making sure I have the hottest fake boyfriend at this thing." 

"Any time," Garth jokes, and Roy feels like he can breathe again. "You ready to go back downstairs?" 

"You're not gonna unpack?" 

Garth shrugs. "I've got time later. If we stay up here too long, they might get suspicious," he jokes. And he _winks_ , and Roy's knees suddenly feel weak all over. 

"Trust me, Ollie's already gonna rip the shit out of me about this," Roy assures him. 

"I'll make sure to try and embarrass you, then," Garth replies. 

Roy barks out a laugh and turns to open the door, then pauses when he remembers the _other_ thing he needs to address. 

"Actually, I have a favour to ask you," he says. Haltingly, even though he knows Garth already _knows_. A warm hand lands on his own on the doorknob, and Garth's eyes are nothing but sincere when he meets them. 

"What is it?" He asks, soft and gentle. 

"There's alcohol downstairs." Roy gestures vaguely at Garth with his other hand. "I don't mind you drinking, but since we're sharing a room, I'd - appreciate it if you didn't get drunk." He sighs and shuts his eyes. "The others wait until I leave, and that's fine, but if you - I don't want to be near it. So if you do, just - do me a favour and ask Connor if you can sleep in his room instead - " 

Garth gently squeezes his hand, successfully derailing Roy's train of thought. 

"I know," he says quietly. "I remember. I wasn't going to drink anyway, it's not - what I consider a fun time." 

Roy nods. "Okay." Then swallows. "Thanks." 

"Always." Garth squeezes his hand once more before pulling away. "So, what am I looking forward to tonight?" 

"Family dinner." 


	5. December 23 (cont.)

Garth, perhaps predictably, is a hit at dinner. 

Roy maybe should have seen this coming, considering that he's been painfully twisted up about Garth for _years_ , but somehow he didn't quite think through the effect that Garth would have on middle-aged divorcees. In fact, he's almost glad he's fake dating him, now, because Connie and Mike seem to find Garth absolutely _charming_ , and Roy would, too, if he didn't know it was an elaborate act. Garth's about as smooth as starfish when he's not playing the part of attentive, attractive boyfriend, and Roy's torn between falling for the act and knowing he's already fallen for the reality. 

The only problem with this is that Garth being popular means he's getting pop quizzed like it's high school all over again, which, subsequently, puts _Roy_ under fire. 

"So, how long have you been together?" Connie asks, gesturing between them with her fork. "Ollie hasn't mentioned you at _all_ , Garth." 

Roy's brain backfires for a split second, and he hopes the panicked glance he shares with Garth isn't too obvious, but they hadn't had _time_ to hash out any details like this - 

"Two years," Roy lies. Hopefully a more established relationship will fly under the radar more, rather than all the awkward questions about how they met or whatever people ask these days. 

"Two _years_ ," Connie gasps. " _Wow_. I'm surprised I haven't heard of you more often." She leans in conspiratorially. "You know, it only took Lily and Josh three years before they were getting married." 

Roy blanches. Garth's knife drops to his plate. Ollie's head snaps up like a startled deer. 

"Con, are you torturing my kids?" He jokes, but his glance to Roy indicates he heard exactly what she said. 

"Nope," Connie says sweetly, but her smirk is wickedly reminiscent of Ollie when she speaks next. "I'm just saying you might have a wedding on your hands before you know it." 

"If I do, I'm not inviting you." 

"Sorry about mom," Lily sighs, gesturing between them with her fork. "She _loves_ weddings. How'd you two meet?"

Roy feels Garth stiffen beside him, but covers it with an easy smile. He snaps a glance to Roy, quick as a flash, Roy's panic mirrored in his eyes. 

"Yeah," Barry says, propping his chin onto his hand as he leans forward, a shit-eating grin on his face. "How _did_ you two meet?" 

"I - we - " Garth starts, but fails to get past the stammer. They hadn't come up with an origin story - not even a first _date_ story, and Garth's starting to flounder under the attention. 

"We met at work," Roy covers smoothly, dropping a hand to squeeze Garth's knee. _I got this_. "He came into the shop for a failed exhaust and, well, we got to talking." 

Mechanic had been the easiest lie to sell them, especially with the bustling population of New York. It's basically untraceable for civilians, and Roy knows just enough DIY to make it seem believable. 

"Wow, that's some great service," Barry jokes, and Roy resists the urge to launch his fork across the table. 

"Well, he _did_ fix my exhaust, so I agree with you there," Garth chimes in, smiling sweetly. "And I was only a few minutes late for work." 

"I think it was you giving me your number that made you late," Roy says, knocking his elbow against Garth's. 

Garth shrugs. "I don't think they missed me much." 

"Where do you work?" Josh asks. Garth pops a potato into his mouth and holds up a polite finger to indicate the waiting time, and Roy scrambles to come up with a good solution oh god what would Garth know about what can he cover with - 

"Garth works at an aquarium," Roy blurts out. Garth chokes on his potato. Thumps his chest, and glances at Roy with a _really?_ in the lift of his eyebrows, and Roy shrugs sheepishly. 

"An aquarium? That's so _cool_ ," Harry says, looking up from their phone. "Do you get to work with the animals? Wait, are you a - a biologist or something - " 

"I'm a handler," Garth replies. He kicks Roy's ankle underneath the table. "But I'm not in school, no." 

"Do you work with environment tech?" Harry asks, then spits out more rapid-fire questions, "Wait, wait, do you work with getting the animals or actually taking care of them in the aquarium? - " 

"Harry wants to work in a zoo when they're older," Lily stage-whispers, winking at Roy. "Forgive their excitement." 

"No, no, it's okay," Garth laughs, waving her off. "I'm always happy to talk about marine life." 

Roy stays tuned into the conversation to make sure it goes smoothly, chimes in with his own lies every now and then, and glares at Hal across the table when he sees him snickering. Barry wiggles his way back into their group at some point, too, but thankfully turns the topic onto himself to give Roy and Garth a reprieve - one that Roy acknowledges with a grateful nod. 

"Sorry," he murmurs to Garth, who shakes his head. 

"Don't be," he replies, sounding a lot more amused than Roy expected. "If this is dinner, I wanna see what dessert looks like." 

\-- 

Dessert looks like a couple mousse-topped cakes and Ollie sticking mistletoe on the entryway between the hallway and living room, grinning smugly at Roy as he does so. People drift underneath it to make their way to the sofas with their plates of cake slices, although Ollie gets caught underneath with Dinah, and Lily with Josh, and Roy eyes the sprig of green warily before sharing a look with Garth. Garth nods in understanding, and grabs Roy's glass of water to fill it up at the sink while Roy gathers up their two plates. 

Hal tries and fails to catch Barry under it on their way to the living room, and Roy steps underneath confidently alone, shooting the back of Ollie's head a glare before stepping over to a sofa. He sits down beside Harry and Charlotte, who are draped over each other affectionately, and watches Garth also make his way inside, winding around Mike and Connor and Mia on the floor before he plops down beside Roy. 

Before settling in, Garth leans forward to wrestle his jacket off, and drapes it over the arm of the sofa before rolling up his sleeves and leaning back against the cushions with a sigh. On his other side, Roy catches a glimpse of Charlotte marvelling over the deep, thick tattoos on Garth's forearms, sweeping up under the shirt, but swaps his plate and glass with Garth before she can ask anything. 

The sofa really isn't big enough for four people to sit side-by-side - there's a little more room afforded to Roy and Garth by pure virtue of Harry and Charlotte tangling up together, but Roy isn't exactly a small guy, and neither is Garth, so he ends up with his shoulder pressed uncomfortably against Garth's while the movie starts. Someone flicks the lights off, bathing them all in darkness, and Roy feels a little safe letting his guard down with no one to scrutinise him. The only person in this room with night vision is Garth, and it's already too late to keep up any defences around _him_. 

As the movie leads into its introduction, the room gradually relaxes. Dinah ends up resting her head on Ollie's shoulder, Lily and Josh curl up under a borrowed blanket with cake carefully balanced on their knees. Ollie throws his arm around Connie on his other side and presses a kiss to her temple before turning back to the movie. Barry's legs end up in Hal's lap, with Hal's fingers curved gently around an ankle, and Harry and Charlotte twist up together somehow even more, their heads leaning together, and Roy feels something hollow ache deep inside him. It doesn't usually get to him, the couples being...couple-y. 

But usually, he's sprawled across Connor and Mia on the floor, not squished up to a guy he's been crushing on since middle school, and that changes things. 

A murmur of his name brings his attention back to said guy, who shifts in the small space of the sofa. 

"Do you mind if I - " Garth lifts his arm then, to tap at Roy's shoulder, and Roy's breath catches in his throat. In the dim of the room, no one can see him blush. No one except Garth, so he nods as smoothly as he can and leans in to let Garth drape an arm over his shoulders. 

He's not quite short enough to comfortably rest his head on Garth's shoulder, as much as he wants to slump down and do so, so he rests his temple against Garth's and relaxes into the unnatural warmth he radiates. He's comfortable in the curve of Garth's arm, against the slope of his side, and although he tries to focus on the movie, his attention keeps drifting. 

Garth's fingers toy idly with his collar. It wouldn't be so distracting if it was Dick, or Wally, but as it is, Roy can't stop zeroing in on the gentle heat of Garth's fingers brushing his neck, stirring the ends of his hair. If he turned forty-five degrees, his mouth would meet Garth's cheek, and the thought is a heady one. 

Halfway through the movie, Ollie extricates himself from the chatter and laughter of the room to get drinks, arranged neatly on a serving tray for everybody. He plays up the waiter joke while passing it around, bringing it down to Barry with a dramatic sweep of his arm as they select their drinks - soda, and whiskey after Barry turns his nose up at the wine. When Ollie swings by Roy and Garth, he doesn't comment on their position, just waggles his eyebrows as Roy picks up his Sprite and Garth deliberates. He picks Coke eventually, and Ollie takes their empty cake plates to add to the pile he's gathering, and leaves them alone without another word. 

Roy closes his eyes and tries not to get used to the feeling of Garth slumped against him. 

\-- 

The party starts living up to its name after the movie finishes, after Ollie and Connie are on their second glass of wine, and after Connor and Lily start setting up a rowdy poker game on the floor for everyone. The chatter grows louder, the laughter looser, and glasses clink together noisily. There's full-throated cheers and whooping whenever anyone gets caught underneath the mistletoe, kissing or hugging whoever they ended up with. Roy does end up getting smothered by Barry once, and smacks him extra hard on the back to make him regret it. But Garth and him successfully avoid it altogether. 

Hal tears open a carton of eggnog to pass around in shot glasses, and even offers Harry and Charlotte a tame inch of drink, raising his eyebrows in question. Harry takes some, but Charlotte declines, and Hal skips straight over Roy to fill Connor's empty beer bottle with eggnog, until it almost overflows onto the carpet and Connor's swearing bloody, licking cream off of his knuckles. 

Roy hates to leave Garth's side, but he does to play a few hands of poker. Josh deals him in with ease, and then Garth, when he sinks to the floor beside Roy. 

"Have you ever even _played_ poker?" He asks Garth. 

"Wally and Lilith taught me the basics," Garth says, shrugging nonchalantly. "But otherwise, not a clue." 

"Oh man, you're gonna get _creamed_ ," Mia replies, leaning in to talk to them. "Connor's scarily good at this." 

"Speak for yourself, Char's gonna clean you out," Harry threatens. 

"Wait, what are we betting?" Mike asks, shooting them a worried glance. "All I got is quarters." 

"Don't gamble, kids," comes from above them, and then Dinah sets down a huge pack of M&Ms. "Here's your poker chips." 

"You wanna deal in?" Roy asks, grinning up at her. "Show these kids how it's done?" 

Dinah snorts. "I'll think about it. Might come and kick your ass later." 

"These are open," Lily says, peering into the bag. 

"Yep," Dinah replies, and grins, wicked. "That's because there's Skittles mixed in there." She turns on her heel and walks away without another word, leaving them to groan and giggle in equal measure. 

"Winner has to take a random handful," Connor says, and they all murmur their agreement while divvying up the "chips". 

Honestly, it goes better than Roy expected for the first hour. He plays safe, to keep the heat off of him, but Garth keeps diving all-in, and keeps fucking himself over, and then winning miraculous hands that frustrate Connor and Charlotte into slipping up. He's giving tough competition, and Roy's just here for the ride at this point, folding and drawing and keeping a sensible amount of chips for himself as a consolation prize.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Barry pretend to stumble and crash against Hal's side, giggling obnoxiously - deliberately, because Hal rolls his eyes and catches his "drunk" husband around the waist, and Ollie's laughing himself into stitches. Connie tips her head back with a laugh, wine sloshing in her glass, and leans forward with a familiar sway. Roy looks away before he can see any more from her, but he can feel Hal's gaze boring into the back of his head. 

"Okay, okay, fresh start," Josh says, gathering up the remains of the hands. He shuffles the deck with ease, bridge-and-riffling it between his palms. 

"I'll get us another round," Lily offers, pushing herself up to stand. "Who wants what?" 

Everyone voices their drink orders - Roy declines anything, even water, and lets Josh deal him into the next round. Garth helps count out new chips, still wincing from downing the last winning mouthful. 

"How'd that go down, Garth?" Connor asks, stretching his legs out to cross his ankles. He cocks a smug eyebrow. "You regret stealing my thunder?" 

"Thunder? It was barely a footstep," Garth replies, grinning as he flicks a M&M - or Skittle, who knows - into Connor's new pile. 

"That was fucking _cold_ ," Harry says. Josh flicks the last cards onto the piles, and picks up his own to start sorting through them. 

"Roy, get your boyfriend under control," Connor teases, and Roy flips him off wordlessly, laughing at the dramatic reaction it gets him. 

More playful threats and jokes bounce around the group before Lily returns with the tray, setting it down in the middle to let everyone pick their drinks off. Poker only ends up lasting for another boisterous round, and the group of parents gets louder in the corner, all playing some sort of game together on their phones. Barry pretends to slur a couple words, and Connie actually _does_. 

Half an hour later, Roy lets himself lose the round they're on and stretches his arms above his head. 

"Right, I'm fucking beat," he says, sighing when his shoulders pop. His back aches faintly from the position he's been in for close to two hours. "I'm gonna call it a night." 

"Already? It's only ten," Harry teases, tongue poking out between their teeth when they grin. 

"Roy's usually early to bed," Connor says, tossing him an apologetic glance. 

"Yeah, early bird and all that," Roy mumbles. He pushes himself up to stand, and briefly meets Garth's eyes. 

"I'll see you all tomorrow," he says, and nudges Garth with his foot. "Don't worry about waking me up." 

Garth nods. 

Roy turns and leaves before he can say anything else, and before Connie can get any drunker. 

The sound of the party fades as he trudges up the stairs, undoing another button on his shirt to try and cool down. He shoves his sleeves up and runs a hand through his hair, loosening it up all over again before entering his bedroom. The shoes get kicked into the corner, and the jeans traded for pyjamas pants. 

He wasn't lying about Garth not having to worry about waking him up. He may duck out of parties early, but he hasn't got the most stellar sleeping schedule. Usually he'd shower, but tonight he's too exhausted to do much more than slump on the floor by his bed and drag his laptop down off the table. 

The Netflix title screen is a comforting sight. A familiar one, during the holidays. He either ends up watching TV or playing games, when he disappears early - or jacking off, but there's no telling when Garth will return, and Roy's not stupid enough to think he'll happen to choose the right timing to start getting busy. 

Despite the comfort of sitcom TV and the solitude of his room, it feels a little lonelier tonight. Maybe it's because of Garth, or maybe because he's still trying to breathe past the spike of discomfort sitting in his chest from Connie's rapid slide from sobriety. He doesn't doubt that Ollie and Dinah did their best, but there's only so much they can do without outright outing Roy, and he doesn't exactly want his past publicised to family members he's never even _heard_ of before. 

Or maybe it's because he knows there's a full house downstairs, all partying and laughing and enjoying themselves. And he's...here, sitting quietly in his room, exhausted by the company and the alcohol, but there's so many more people downstairs than just his immediate family. Normally, the party doesn't go past midnight, but with all the new additions, Roy knows it'll go into the small hours of the morning. 

Still. He drags his knees up to rest his arms on them, and presses the space bar with his toe to start the show, and lets himself unfocus for a bit. 

He only gets thirty minutes in before a knock comes on his door. If it's Ollie, he's not interested in an apology. 

"Who is it?" He calls out, desperately hoping it's at least Hal, or Barry, or at least someone _sober_ \- 

"Garth." The shadow of feet shuffles under the doorway. "Can I come in?" 

"Can - yeah, yes, of course," Roy sighs, leaning back against the bed as Garth enters, closing the door carefully behind him.

"It's your room, too," Roy reminds him. "You don't have to knock." 

Garth shrugs. He's not meeting Roy's eyes, and there's two water bottles and a mysterious box in his hands. 

"You okay?" Roy asks, but Garth just silently nods, stepping around the laptop to drop himself on the floor beside Roy. 

"I should be asking you that," he says. He offers Roy a bottle, which Roy takes gratefully. 

"You can stay down there," Roy says, twisting the cap off. "I don't mind. I only left because - " 

"I know," Garth murmurs. He meets Roy's eyes, now, something curious in their depths. Roy's lungs trip on the inhale, and stutter on the exhale. 

"I didn't want you to be lonely," Garth continues, and places the box on his lap. He pops it open with a little smile, revealing two forks and the remains of chocolate cake. "I brought the rest of dessert." 

"Garth, I - " Roy doesn't know what to say. No one's ever followed him up here before - not that he _wants_ them to, but...but it's touching, the way Garth does it, like it's easy to melt in with Roy, like Roy doesn't have all these rough edges that he can't iron out. 

"What about downstairs?" He asks weakly. "The party - " 

"I don't mind," Garth says, as soft as the plush carpet underneath Roy's socked feet. Garth dips his head forward, and Roy thinks for a dizzying moment they're about to kiss. "I'm here for you anyway." 

" _Garth_." He can't think of how to say it, of how to phrase how stupidly _sweet_ this is, Garth leaving a very lively and probably fun party just to sit with him in his room and watch Netflix - _and_ he brought dessert, and everyone probably watched him leave - 

Roy decides, for once, not to think about everyone else. Garth's _his_ friend, and he's the one here with two forks and one makeshift plate, and he's the one nudging against Roy's shoulder to ask him what he's watching. 

"You've never seen this, have you?" Roy realises, when Garth's expression stays completely blank at his answer. 

"Should I have?" Garth asks, his eyebrows pulling together in worry. Roy sighs, laughs, and throws an arm around Garth's shoulder to pull him in against his side while he explains the characters, narrating as the episode plays. 

He doesn't even notice when Garth starts slumping down, not until his head is firmly resting on Roy's shoulder. 

And Roy, selfish asshole that he is, slides his hand up to play with the ends of Garth's hair. Garth doesn't complain, and it's with his quiet rumble of appreciation that Roy finally, finally relaxes enough to rest his head atop Garth's. 


	6. December 24

Roy sleeps really fucking soundly. Turns out having a human furnace will do that to you. 

He also wakes up facing Garth's back, but with the size of the bed, they had both accepted the inevitable touching and not-quite-cuddling that would ensue. So Roy is entirely pressed to Garth's back, trapped between him and the wall, and one of those is desperately cold, so he's a little shameless about freeing his arm from its painful position between them to sling it over Garth's middle instead. Garth's hair tickles his nose, but he doesn't seem to be awake, so Roy presses himself closer to the pleasant warmth of Garth's back and dozes comfortably in the weak morning sunshine dappling the curtains. 

The alarm wakes Garth up half an hour later, mumbling something into his pillow as he slaps at the bedside table to turn off his phone. They'd set an alarm so that they wouldn't sleep in _too_ late - and also because Roy likes to take advantage of most of everyone else being hungover. With the house all to himself in the morning, he can get downstairs and make breakfast without being roped into making it for anyone else. 

Right now, though, he just withdraws his arm from Garth and scoots over to let Garth roll onto his back, scrubbing a hand down his face with a groan. There's a pillow crease on his cheek, and a dark layer of stubble creeping up his jaw. 

"Morning, sleeping beauty," Roy teases, propping himself up on an elbow. Garth narrows his eyes. 

"How long were you awake for?" 

Roy shrugs. "Not long. Half an hour?" He grins. "Sue me, you're warm. It's nice." 

Garth snorts. Roy grins. 

"And the snoring's not that bad," he adds, which makes Garth roll over with a despairing groan, burying his face in the pillow. 

"Shut _up_ ," Garth moans. "'M sorry." 

"Hey, don't be." Roy shakes his shoulder, and when Garth just mumbles again, laughs. "Dude, I already know you snore. I wouldn't share a bed with you if I didn't mind." 

"You already _know_?" Garth lifts his head just enough to talk, spitting pillow out of his mouth. 

"We share a wall in the Tower, Garth. Our beds are separated by plaster and prayers." Which - dangerous thought, really, because Roy doesn't want to open the floodgates on their living situation, doesn't want to know what _Garth_ might have heard, late at night when Roy thought he wasn't home and hadn't taken care of things in the shower - 

"Anyway," Roy says, forcefully cheerful. He slaps Garth on the back and rolls over him to get out of the bed. "I gotta piss like a racehorse, see ya in a sec." 

Garth just grunts in reply. Roy shuts the door behind himself and tries not to make too much noise, because _these_ walls aren't soundproof, and Roy's just thankful they've been through enough shit together that he's long past being embarrassed about Garth hearing him go to the bathroom. 

When he swaps with Garth, Garth's already partially dressed, his pyjamas tucked neatly under the blankets and underwear in the hamper at the foot of the bed. Roy's follows soon after. He pulls on a loose pair of sweats and a tank top while Garth shaves, and then swaps back with him to do the same. 

It feels oddly domestic, running through his morning routine with Garth, even though they've done this exact thing before, and in closer quarters than this. But it feels different now, tucked away in his childhood bedroom, a bedroom he's long outgrown, a room that doesn't really fit two grown men, but a room that fits Garth in neatly among all of Roy's other memories of this house. 

It's a room he hasn't lived in since he was sixteen, and it's a room full of scars, but they don't hurt quite so much with someone to share the space with. 

"Is anyone else even awake?" Garth whispers when they step into the hallway, silently shutting the door behind him. 

"Probably not," Roy answers. The stairs creak under his footsteps, but no one yells up to greet them. "Everyone's hungover as hell, so they won't be down until noon. I don't know about Connie's family, though." 

"What about Hal and Barry? They're not hungover." 

Roy smirks. "They're probably breaking in Ollie's guest bed." 

Garth stumbles with his surprise, very solidly bumping into Roy, who steadies him and steers them in the direction of the kitchen. 

"Are you serious?" He laughs, drifting close to Roy as Roy pulls stuff out of the cupboards. 

"Unfortunately," he sighs. "Ollie tries to ban sex in the house, but no one's ever followed that rule." 

Garth leans casually against the fridge, watching Roy gather his ingredients. "Including you?" 

Roy almost drops the saucepan he's holding. Glances up at Garth to find him cocking an eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest. 

"Maybe," he hedges. _Yes_. Many times. "You want pancakes?" 

Garth regards him with a curious look. Roy doesn't know what to make of it. 

"Sure," he agrees, and steps close to help Roy prepare the batter. 

\-- 

"Aw, you didn't save any for us?" Hal runs a hand through his hair, but it doesn't help it sticking up in all directions, fluffed beyond repair. 

"Sucks to be you, huh?" Roy replies through his mouthful of pancakes. Garth had taken it upon himself to pour a loose bow and arrow shape over the top of Roy's, and Roy had knocked powdered sugar into a rough trident on Garth's. A raspberry sits atop each spike, and he's honestly a little proud of his artistry, despite the fact it's long been sliced apart. 

"God, if I have to pretend to be hungover," Barry groans, slumping against the counter. "Quick, how do I act?" 

"Just kinda groan and hold your head," Hal says. "You don't like bright light or loud noises." 

"So basically, be yourself," Roy quips, and gets a superspeed flick to the ear for it. 

"If you start drinking and eating now, it'll be believable you've sobered up enough," Garth says, pushing the carton of juice across the table. 

"You're my favourite Titan," Barry sighs, speeding through pouring the glasses. 

"I'm gonna tell Wally you said that," Garth replies, and Roy hides a snicker into his food while they bicker. 

Hal busies himself with making breakfast, and Garth gets up to scrounge for another carton of juice, still conversing with Barry as he bends to investigate the fridge. A hand lands on Roy's shoulder a few minutes later, startling him. 

"Sorry about Connie," Hal says, crouching down to look him in the eye. Roy doesn't meet his gaze, staring at his plate instead. "We were trying to get her to slow down, but she was...more of a lightweight than Ollie remembered." 

"It's okay," Roy says. Hal studies him carefully. 

"Are you?" He asks, his voice much softer than before. "It's okay if you're not, Roy." 

Roy shrugs, but he doesn't hide the disappointment on his face. "It - yeah, I wasn't - feeling great when I went upstairs. But I'm okay now, really." He _does_ meet Hal's gaze now, finding nothing but concern and care in them. 

"Garth helped a lot," he murmurs. "I just - needed some quiet." 

Hal squeezes his arm comfortingly. "Okay. I'm still sorry, Roy." 

"Hey, I know it can't always be helped," Roy says. "But you know I would've called you if I needed to." 

"I do." And that's the best thing about Hal, really, that he trusts Roy to reach out - and Roy _does_ , has many times in the past, probably will in the future, hopefully less times. He doesn't smother or coddle unnecessarily; he's a mix of sponsor detachment and personal friendship that suits Roy perfectly. 

"You're doing a good job, kid," Hal says, and Roy pulls him in for a hug, screws his eyes shut against the sudden damp in their corners. He's noticed how Garth and Barry have gravitated to the counter across the kitchen, politely ignoring them, but he still doesn't exactly want to end up spontaneously in tears. 

Hal squeezes him gently before Roy lets go, relief settling in his chest like warm blanket. He hadn't realised how earnestly he'd wanted to at least cover _some_ of last night with someone who _gets_ it. Garth and Barry smoothly part when Hal joins them, gently berating Barry for not flipping the sausages, and Garth slips into the chair next to Roy's again with fresh glasses of juice for both of them. 

"So, what's the plan today?" He asks, cutting off a fluffy chunk of syrup-soaked pancake. Roy looks on jealously. 

"The plan is to avoid the zombies," Roy jokes, holding up a finger to count his list off, "find my Christmas sweaters, and be a pain in the ass to fake-hungover Barry." 

"Aw, come on, I don't deserve this," Barry whines, his hands blurring with how fast he's making bagels. 

"No, but it's hilarious," Hal agrees. He hooks an arm around Barry's waist when he grumbles again, squeezing him to his side. Roy politely looks away, and ends up locking eyes with Garth instead. 

"So I'm not going to get quizzed about my nonexistent job?" Garth teases. " _Aquarium_? Really?" 

"Look, it was the easiest answer! If they ask you about fish, you know about fish!" 

"Oh, yeah, because being an aquarium is all about _fish_." 

"Shut up, you were about to blow our cover." Roy pushes his long-empty plate into the middle, grinning smugly. "Pretty amateur move for an original _Titan_." 

"Sorry, training didn't cover being your fake boyfriend." 

"I'll have to ask Dick to put it in the schedule," Roy jokes, leaning back in his chair. He smirks. "He's got experience with that." 

" _Dick_?" Garth drops his fork to stab a finger at him. "You did _not_ \- " 

"I don't kiss and tell, Garth." 

"Wish you had that rule when you were fawning over Donna," Hal says, scooping bacon and eggs onto matching plates. "I've heard enough for a _lifetime_." 

"I - _shut up_ ," Roy hisses, while the rest of the room explodes in laughter around him. "Shut _up_ , Hal, I had to hear you pine over _Barry_ \- " 

"Oh, _pine_ over me?" Barry grins, bumping his hip against Hal's. "Did you _pine_ , Hal?" 

"They won't find your body," Hal threatens, holding his fist up to Barry's chin. It's a lot less intimidating, even jokingly, without the power ring, but the tan line highlights a threatening mockery of it. 

"Is Christmas Eve always this lively?" Garth asks Roy, crouching down as if to hide behind him. 

"You gotta catch me first," Barry replies, and zips to the other side of the room. 

"Oh, wait until the rest of them get down here," Roy answers. 

\-- 

Roy and Garth don't see the rest of the family until mid-afternoon. They had disappeared upstairs to play a couple of Roy's video games, with breaks to check in on the Titans group chat, and the morning had passed remarkably calmly between the two of them, sitting side-by-side on Roy's bed with a shared bowl of microwave popcorn Roy had crept downstairs to make. 

Now, though, hunger forces them to consider going downstairs. 

"There's probably some sort of lunch down there," Roy reasons. "Already made. We won't have to fend for ourselves." 

"I thought you wanted to avoid the zombies?" Garth's sitting so close to him, so close it makes it hard to think. 

"They'll be slightly more human now." Roy glances at the time and sighs. 

"I could go down and get it," Garth offers. "Bring it back up here." 

"No - no, I should face the music." Roy pushes himself off the bed and holds out a hand to Garth automatically. "I'll make sure you don't get ambushed." 

Garth takes his hand to pull himself up and off. To Roy's disappointment, he lets go when he's on his feet. 

"If we're quick, we might not get roped into staying," Roy says as he opens the door. He starts to walk out, but then get abruptly yanked back, collapsing back onto Garth's chest with an _oof_. 

"What the - " a glance down shows him the doorknob, currently buried in the arm of his drop tank, and he unhooks himself with a sigh. Garth giggles against his back, his hands burning hot against Roy's exposed sides. 

"You good?" He snickers. "Do I need to help you down the stairs?" 

"Shut up," Roy mumbles, slapping Garth's arm before tugging him out into the hallway - 

and right into Harry and Charlotte, also leaving their room. 

"Hey," Roy says awkwardly, raising a hand in greeting. 

"Hi," Charlotte says. Harry waves back silently. Roy doesn't know if he should remove his hand from Garth's arm - on second thought, maybe it's _weird_ that he's just holding his bicep, although it's a very _nice_ bicep, holy shit - 

Garth's arm slides up his palm until warm fingers close around his own, tugging his hand down to rest at a normal position near his hips. Garth doesn't let go of his hand this time. 

"You think there's lunch downstairs?" Garth says, prompting Roy to pause his tiny crisis and use his brain normally again. Which is easier said than done, with Garth pressed up intimate against him, one arm looped distractingly around his waist. 

"Yeah, there might be," he answers. Clears his throat as he straightens, gesturing towards the stairs. "C'mon, let's go check out the damage." 

He pulls Garth down with him, Harry and Charlotte close behind, and finds the kitchen and living room alive once more, although a lot drowsier than last night. Ollie grunts at them on his way by, a couple heaping sandwiches loaded on his plate. Dinah's opted for the much more fashionable sunglasses-indoors look, but actually manages a sweet "afternoon, guys" to them as she passes. 

Garth's the one to tug them into motion this time, propelling Roy to the vague crowd around the sandwiches. 

"Who made these?" Roy asks. 

"Barry did," Connie replies, glancing up at him with a smile. She looks almost completely unaffected by last night, if it wasn't for the circles under her eyes and the lag to her movements. 

"Wow, that was...quick," Garth says, flashing a cheeky smile at Barry across the table, who just glares at him. He's wearing sunglasses, too - a pair of Hal's, if Roy's correct. 

"Don't worry, he appreciates the compliment," Hal says, hugging Barry to his side. "He's just a bit hungover, aren't you, _honey_?" 

Roy almost busts out laughing at the murderous look Barry sends his way, but Hal grins, bright and sunny, and squeezes him. 

"I'm amazed he managed to pull all this together," Mike murmurs, rubbing his temple. "I feel like someone dug a _jackhammer_ into my head." 

"I told you to go easy on the eggnog," Connor replies, depositing a tong-ful of chips onto his plate. As always, he looks completely normal, a fact that pisses Ollie off to no end sometimes. It's like he hadn't drunk anything at all, but Roy personally knows he at _least_ worked his way through two beers and eggnog with only a handful of winner poker chips in his stomach. 

"Feel free to join us in the living room," Connor says to Roy, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Ollie's miserable so I'd avoid him for now." 

"Oh, joy," Roy deadpans. 


	7. December 24 (cont.)

Ollie, and the rest of the zombies, liven up after lunch. They even get to chatting, and Roy can bear being in the same room with all of them once the worst of their collective hangover passes. Mia and Lily are playing a quiet co-op game that Roy doesn't recognise on the TV, and Mike's napping on the floor by Roy's feet. 

A small 'wa-hey!' rises from Ollie and Connie's sofa, and Roy turns to see Hal and Barry caught under the mistletoe, rolling their eyes at Ollie. They still kiss anyway, to a chorus of weak cheers. 

The afternoon passes like sludge. Quiet whooping accompanies mistletoe catches, although some are missed out of sheer laziness, and Mike eventually wakes up to tap into the video game they've all been taking turns on. Hal disappears into the kitchen for an hour and returns with latkes as some sort of post-lunch pre-dinner snack, to a chorus of heartfelt thanks. Afterwards, someone busts out one of those tins of fancy cookies that taste like dust. It gets polished off anyway. 

Roy glances over to the parents gathered around a table in the corner, now, a determined but quiet game of Uno laid out between them. Ollie mutters something as he lays down a card, and Barry hunches forward to squint at the new pile, his sunglasses pushed up onto his forehead. There's a mumble of murmurs, and then Connie carefully picks out another card and presses it onto the top of the pile with an air of finality. 

" _Fuck_ ," Hal hisses, but still under his breath, and Dinah nods along sagely. 

Roy passes the controller on to Charlotte when he dies in-game, and sinks back into the sofa to browse his phone again. He feels awkward leaving, now that everyone's gathered down here, but he also feels awkward _staying_. But the conversation is fun, and his extended family aren't awful, and being down here means he has a pathetic excuse to keep laying against Garth's side. 

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," Garth tells him with a slap to his knee. Roy grunts noncommittally, shifts so he can get up, and settles into the warm space left behind. 

On the TV, Josh gets brutally gunned down and passes the controller to Connor with a defeated sigh. It's a particularly hard level they're stuck on, and almost all of them have taken a turn to try and beat it. Charlotte dies thirty seconds later, and hands the controller to Mia as the reload screen pulses on the TV. 

"Is anyone doing a drinks run?" Mia asks, casting a glance over to the people scattered on the sofas. 

"I did it last time," Josh says, flopping down beside Lily on the floor. 

"I can do it," Roy offers, pushing himself up with a grunt. He's bored anyway. "What d'you want?" 

"Apple juice, if we have any left," Mia says. "Thanks." 

"I'll just stick with water." Lily's smile is bright and charming. "Thanks, Roy." 

"No problem." _Lils_ , he almost adds on reflex, and catches himself just in time. 

No one else puts in an order, so he heads past the silent Uno game towards the kitchen, unlocking his phone to check any notifications as he picks his way out of the living room. 

He's so engrossed in his phone he doesn't realise he's on a collision course until he runs smack into somebody - somebody who catches him immediately, their hands familiarly burning, and those forearms aren't nearly pale enough to be Barry - 

The Uno table explodes in a jarring mix of whooping and wolf whistling, and Roy looks up at the mistletoe, directly above him, and back to Garth with mild horror. 

If it was just the usual guests, he could laugh and play it off and hug Garth instead. But Connie's cheering too, and Lily and Josh are holding up thumbs-up, and Mike raises his half-empty drink. 

Roy meets Garth's eyes, and panics so silently and so fervently he's sure he's about to fucking implode. He _hates_ being put on the spot like this. It all happens in a split second, but it feels like an eternity, and he's got to make a decision before someone notices how weird this is. 

Garth steps closer. Roy's heart thrashes in his chest. Garth raises an eyebrow _okay?_ and Roy nods, forcing his hands to Garth's waist as Garth cups his cheek with one _very_ warm, very pleasant hand, and leans in. 

Roy barely remembers to close his eyes before Garth's lips brush his own. It's nothing more than a couple seconds, but Roy rocks forward on his heels to press just that little bit harder, enough to know he's not dreaming, and drinks in the hitch of Garth's breath, the scent of his aftershave, thick and dizzying this close together. 

Garth lingers, presses another small, short kiss to him, and Roy knows his cheeks are burning when they separate. A whoop rises from the table. The tips of Garth's ears burn darker than normal, and Roy's breath catches in his throat without his permission. Garth's gaze feels _searing_ , now, eyes wide and fixed on Roy's face. 

They flick down to his mouth, and Roy desperately, selfishly, wants to kiss him again. 

Instead of that, he gently pushes Garth back and laughs quietly. 

"I'm just getting drinks for Lily and Mia," he says. His smile feels rickety and forced, like it's been nailed to his face. "You want anything?" 

"No, I'm - I'm good," Garth replies. He clears his throat, rubs a hand over his mouth, and they part to go their separate ways, Roy to the kitchen and Garth to the living room. 

He manages to get two glasses filled before he realises that he just _kissed Garth_. He just - Garth kissed _him_. Yes, it was mistletoe, and yes, it was family pressure, but Garth - 

Roy bangs his head against the fridge and sighs. He's so fucking pathetic. Can't even have a chaste, platonic little kiss without getting flustered. 

He can't make this awkward. He _can't_. They have to share a bed later, they have to _work_ together after the holidays, there's so fucking much at stake here that Roy _can't_ fuck up. 

He sucks in a sharp breath and wills himself to head back to the living room. He delivers the glasses, like he was supposed to in the first place, and sits down calmly beside Garth. Calmly. Very calmly. Garth leans against his shoulder, and he doesn't meet Roy's eyes, staring, instead, at whatever he's doing on his phone. 

This is fine. It's fine. Connor will die in the game, and Roy will be next, and he can continue to just calmly exist beside Garth for the rest of the day and _it was just a kiss, Harper, it didn't mean anything_. He doesn't realise his leg is bouncing until Garth gently touches two fingers to it to let him know, and Roy feels like he might just burst out of his skin if he doesn't - if - it was just a _kiss_ , there's no way it should be affecting him this much - 

"I'm - I'm gonna go to the bathroom," he announces abruptly, ignores the worried look Garth casts him before he shoots off the sofa like a rocket and goes for the hallway bathroom. 

With the door safely locked, Roy braces his hands on the cold porcelain of the sink and tries to count to ten. 

He can't stop thinking about the kiss. Predictable, he knows, and pathetic in equal measure, but he can't stop replaying the sense memory of Garth's lips ghosting over his own on his head, the curve of Garth's fingers over his jaw, the effortless way Garth tilted him up into it, fit them together like puzzle pieces. The quiet hitch of his breath, mirroring something buried deep in Roy's chest. 

Roy, irrationally, almost wants to cry. They were doing so _well_ at avoiding stupid accidents like this, were doing so well with just the occasional hand holding and shoulder touching - _Roy_ was doing well with it. He hadn't allowed his stupid feelings to get in the way, it was easy to pretend it was just platonic, easy to pretend he felt the same way Garth surely did - 

but the hitch of Garth's breath, and the second, softer kiss he went in for. Roy's probably overthinking it. Definitely. Garth's just being - just _faking_ , for the family, and physical touch is easy to repeat, and it probably - 

Roy splashes cold water on his face and dares to glance at himself in the mirror. He's still flushed in the ears, in the apples of his cheeks, as damning as a scarlet letter. 

He washes his hands just to have something to do, and rejoins Garth in the living room a couple minutes later, acting as normal as he can. No one calls him on it, and Roy spends the rest of the night comfortably haunted by the mistletoe, dangling innocently in the entryway as if taunting him about the havoc it's wreaked on his night. 

\-- 

They stay up to see Christmas Day in, as they do every year, and after round of drinks and a couple cards opened, they all head upstairs to go to bed. Roy lets Garth go ahead of him, and lingers in Connor's doorway chatting until he has to pull himself away. 

His bedroom door has never been more daunting (well, once, but that was something much more tragic than this) and he almost feels like he should _knock_. He doesn't, just twists the doorknob and pushes open the door without a sound. Inside, Garth's already half-dressed in pyjamas and towelling his hair dry, glancing up at Roy when he enters. 

"Hey," Roy says, kicking off his slippers at the foot of the bed. He can't quite bring himself to meet Garth's eyes, feels too much like a deer in headlights if he tries. Garth being shirtless only makes it harder - and something else, too, that Roy steadfastly ignores. 

"Merry Christmas," Garth says, laughing at Roy's quiet snort. 

"Does Atlantis even have Christmas?" He asks, steeling himself before stepping up to pick through his drawer of clothes. Beside him, Garth dumps the towel on the dresser and retrieves his shirt from the bed to put it on. The damp from the shower makes it stick distractingly to his chest, to his sides. 

"No." Garth drifts closer to him again, a wall of heat that Roy can't ignore against his bare arm. He shoves a couple hoodies aside to make room for the clothes he's wearing. 

"Sorry to drag you through it, then." 

"It's okay." Garth turns to pick up the towel, and Roy doesn't realise how close they are until he turns as well, and finds himself nearly chest-to-chest with Garth. He freezes there, just like the deer he was afraid of being, and so does Garth. It's stupid, it's like the mistletoe all over again, except this time there's nothing pinning Roy in place. 

"I like the holidays up here," Garth says, his eyes - a piercing, intense purple - fixed to Roy's. 

"Wayne Manor's probably got a better party going on," Roy replies, almost on autopilot. Before he can help it, his gaze drops guiltily to Garth's mouth. 

"Probably," Garth agrees, that mouth curving up into a smile as Roy watches. He tears his eyes from it before it gets too awkward, but meeting Garth's gaze is almost just as bad. There's a tense silence between them, thick like molasses. 

"I'm sorry about the mistletoe," Garth murmurs. Roy swallows, but the molasses tension sticks in his throat, and he can't get out much more than air when he speaks. 

"Why?" He breathes. His thumb brushes Garth's arm where their breathing sways them. Garth smells like Roy's body wash. Like Roy's shampoo. 

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Garth's eyebrows tug together, a sad tilt to their edges. "When you left afterwards, I thought - " 

"You didn't." It feels like grinding rocks with his teeth. "You - didn't." 

Garth's inhale trips on itself, just like under the mistletoe, and Roy - Roy could lean forward just a couple inches and meet him. He _could_. He _wants_ to. Garth's eyelashes are thick and black, and they only make his eyes seem just that more piercing when he looks at Roy again. In the low light, Roy can almost pretend he doesn't see the flush crawling up Garth's cheeks, can almost pretend he doesn't feel his own skin prickling with heat. 

"It was nice," Roy confesses. It's too much, too vulnerable, too _much_ \- "Really nice." 

"It was," Garth agrees. 

"Glad I wasn't the only one," Roy murmurs, and glances down at Garth's mouth again, like a moth to a light. He watches Garth's lips part, feels abruptly dizzy when Garth's tongue pushes out to wet his lower lip, and he doesn't realise he's leaning in until Garth's hair tickles his forehead. 

Too-hot fingers brush Roy's hair behind his ear, a shake to them that Roy aches to soothe, aches to - 

This time, he remembers to close his eyes. This time, Garth doesn't pull away after two seconds. His lips are warm, _so_ warm, and his hand settles unsteadily on Roy's neck, careful like Roy will break into a million pieces. Feels like he will, responds with a gasp, fists his hands into the hem of Garth's shirt to keep him close, like throwing himself into a bonfire. 

They part too soon, but Roy doesn't chase this one, doesn't know _how_ to, weak and shivery all the way through his hollow bones. Garth rests their foreheads together, their heavy breathing mingling in the scant space between them. 

"That was better," Garth mumbles, his fingers dragging on Roy's hair when they flex on his neck. 

"A lot better," Roy agrees softly. He closes his eyes against the swell of emotion that threatens to surface, long buried and long grieved, something he _knows_ he shouldn't have. 

He releases Garth's shirt with a quiet exhale. Garth's nose nudges against his, as if considering, and then Garth pulls away, leaving Roy only with a memory of warmth. 

Roy doesn't open his eyes for a long five seconds. When he does, the earth seems shifted on its axis, ten degrees to the left, but there Garth is, looking at him with an expression Roy doesn't dare to place. Neither of them know what to say. 

"I should...shower," Roy says eventually, breaking the tentative silence. Garth nods, and it's only him looking away that seems to break whatever spell Roy's under. Roy's fingers itch to pull him in again, his body _aches_ to drown in that inhuman warmth, in the crest of whatever Garth's unearthed within him. But he doesn't do anything. 

The water runs hot, but not as comfortingly warm as Garth, and no amount of scrubbing rids Roy's skin of the tingle Garth left on it like burnt handprints, sweeping across his neck, his cheek, his _lips_ and he wishes, briefly, those handprints would scar, just so he'd always have the memory. 


	8. December 25

Roy doesn't sleep as peacefully that night. Even getting into bed beside Garth felt too personal, too overwhelming, and Roy chronically overthinks every little touch before he goes to sleep, from Garth gently touching his waist to Garth pushing his feet away from his side of the narrow bed. His dreams are fitful but pleasant, sordid replays of last night that keep waking him up with a jolt of his heartbeat. 

Something is shifting when Roy stirs for probably the final time, laying on his side. It takes him a second to blink himself awake. It doesn't connect at first, why the bed - wait, actually, why the wall of solid _heat_ beside him is moving incrementally. The heat is Garth, he knows hazily, but the movement - 

Roy's eyes snap all the way open when he realises it's _Garth_ shifting. And not only shifting, _rocking_. Garth's on his front, arms curled around the pillow under his head, but there's an unmistakable jerk to his hips against the mattress - 

Two seconds after Roy notices, Garth stops with a startled breath, like he's just woken up. He _has_ just woken up, Roy realises, and bites his lip against the pathetic noise that wants to tumble out. Garth goes completely stiff, buries his head in the pillow, and Roy graciously pretends to be asleep while Garth slips out of bed and pads to the bathroom. 

Roy hears the toilet flush, and the sink run, and the sound of hands on a towel, but Garth doesn't emerge afterwards. Roy waits thirty seconds. Forty. A minute - _oh_. 

Oh _god_. Garth must be - Roy can't hear anything but the image is vivid in his mind, and he wonders where exactly Garth is in his bathroom. Can't stop thinking about Garth shifting against the mattress, against _his_ mattress, fuck, barely an inch away from where Roy had gotten pressed into the wall somewhere in the night, perfectly content to give Garth space. Wonders what Garth was dreaming about. Knows he himself had some dangerously similar brushes with his subconscious last night as well. 

Roy rolls onto his back and reaches down to his crotch to give himself a friendly squeeze. He waits a moment, but the door doesn't open, so he slips his hand inside. A sigh escapes him at the touch, his wrist buried in fabric as his fingers curl around himself, sleep-warm and sure. 

It's quick work, head pressed back into the pillow and ears pricked for any sound from the bathroom, but the door doesn't unlock and Garth doesn't make any sound and Roy's left to his imagination to fill in the gaps. Imagines Garth at the sink, or sitting on the toilet lid, or maybe leaning against the shower door, working himself over and flushed gorgeously in the cheeks as he bites back heavy breathing, one arm jerking fitfully against his side. 

He wonders if Garth's a lefty or a righty, with all the ambidexterity magic practice has brought him, doesn't know which to imagine. Secretly, privately, imagines Garth using _both_ hands, head tipped back with that flush creeping down his throat in a tantalising curve that Roy desperately wants to kiss. 

Roy pants into the stale air and twitches up into his fist, trying to keep his rocking to a minimum. He's never been more glad for the lack of springs in his mattress, but he doesn't want to alert Garth to the rustle of sheets. It gets more difficult the closer he gets, because he's always been a fidgeter, rubbing fabric between the fingers of his free hand and struggling to keep his legs still as _sensation_ winds its way up his spine, coils low in his gut. 

God, he wants to know if Garth's close, or if he's already come, can barely _think_ about it it's so insanely hot, but the image of Garth coming over his hand is what pushes him over the edge, into biting back a gasp and daring to thrust up into his hand as he spurts onto his stomach, pleasantly hot against sweaty skin. 

He tightens the circle of his fingers and strokes up a couple times to work out the shivers, and pulls his hand out a moment later to shake out the twinge in his wrist. With a belated sigh, he plucks tissues from the box to clean himself up. 

There's noise from the bathroom. Roy stiffens, mid-wipe, but all he hears is the toilet lid opening and closing. Then another flush, and the sink again, and the _towel_ , and Roy balls up the dirty tissues and shoves them into his pocket just as Garth's footsteps slap loudly against the tile, clearly announcing his imminent exit. 

When Roy doesn't say anything, Garth opens the door and steps out. 

"All yours," he says, looking up at Roy. There's a damning tinge of a flush on his cheeks. Roy knows his own are still hot, still red, and burns all over again when Garth's gaze sweeps down his body, stutters where the blanket drapes over Roy's hand on his stomach. 

"Thanks, uh - yeah, thanks," Roy mumbles, and kicks the blankets down to climb out of bed, thankful, for once, that his sleep shirt hangs too low over his hips. 

He does his bathroom routine on autopilot, and presses cold water to his cheeks while he brushes his teeth in a stupid attempt to try and calm the red on them. It doesn't work much, because standing in front of the sink, all he can think about is Garth touching himself. And when _that_ threatens to get him hard all over again, he spits out his toothpaste and rinses his hands in freezing water to try and dispel the thought. 

When he emerges, Garth's in the middle of getting dressed, jeans pulled up but still unbuttoned, a shirt hanging in his hand as he glances over at Roy. Roy's mouth runs dry at the sight, his eyes drawn to the curve of muscle on Garth's naked back before he rips his gaze _anywhere_ else, but the afterimage of blackout ink is already burned into the back of his eyelids. 

"Anything fancy today?" Garth asks when Roy starts stripping. 

"Nah," he replies, shaking his head even though Garth can't see it. He takes advantage of Garth's turned back to change his underwear, and sets to finding a pair of loose jeans and a shirt without a rip in it. Hazard of the job, but it probably wouldn't make a good impression to walk down in something with a clear burn mark streaked across the hem. 

Then he pulls out a Christmas sweater - one that Wally had gotten him two years ago, made of thick green cotton with a Christmas tree on the front, a string of lights woven into the fabric with a battery box tucked into the hem - and tugs it on. He leaves the lights off for now. 

"Garth, here," he says, offering another sweater out to him. Garth turns and plucks bemusedly at it. 

"Christmas sweaters?" 

"Yeah." Roy smiles as Garth takes it and pulls it on. It's a tame one, a bold red with a string of reindeer across the front and looping around to the back. Because it's Roy's, it's slightly small in the shoulders, and a touch too long, bunching at the hips, but Roy finds the bad fit endearing. 

"Perfect," Roy says, reaching out to fold the cuffs up for Garth. "Now you won't look out of place." 

"Out of place?" Garth laughs, but he doesn't shy away from Roy's touch. "Is everyone wearing these or are you just trying to make me look stupid?" 

"I don't think there's anything you could wear that would make you look stupid," Roy quips automatically. His hands stutter on Garth's wrist, and he withdraws them before he can make another misstep. 

"Everyone's wearing one," he promises instead, and reaches inside the hem of his shirt to turn on his Christmas lights. 

Garth laughs when they blink on, a cheerful string of red, yellow, green, and blue that flashes in a gentle pulse on Roy's front. Roy thinks he'd do anything to make Garth laugh like that again. 

"So, you ready to go downstairs?" Roy asks, holding out his arm with a grin. "First thing on the agenda is opening presents." 

"Already? Not even breakfast?" Garth takes his arm anyway, letting Roy lead them out into the hallway. As expected, Christmas music is already playing from downstairs, and someone's rattling a set of jingle bells somewhere. 

"They'll have food out somewhere," Roy promises, and squeezes Garth's arm in his elbow. 

"Then lead the way, Harper." 

\-- 

"And this is - oh, I can't...I can't show this to anyone but my wife - " Ollie, a bright shade of scarlet, covers the box in paper again and tilts it towards Dinah, who throws her head back with a cackle. She whispers something to Connie, who laughs as well, and Ollie shoots Dinah a betrayed look. 

"What is it, Ollie?" Roy teases, playfully nudging Connor's RC car with his socked toe. Connor revs the engine to bump his foot more solidly. 

"It's something that none of you should know about," Ollie says, stashing the present behind a cushion. "You're all too young." 

"And what do you think half of _them_ are doing in this huge house at night?" Barry asks smugly. 

"Shut _up_ ," Ollie hisses. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," Connie says calmly, turning her nose up at Barry. She snickers a moment later, ruining the effect, but it cracks everyone up anyway. 

"Who gave this?" Ollie asks, gesturing to the cushion. When no one owns up, he glares at all of them. 

"I'll find out, and I'll make you regret it," he says. 

Opening gifts is always a hilarious family tradition - and it's funnier this year, because all of them had to find some way to disguise very obvious Green Arrow oriented gifts as something completely innocent. So far, Hal's had to scramble to stop Ollie opening a Justice League group photo, and Mia's dived under the tree to toss an arrow-looking shape with Roy's name on it under the sofa. 

There's a lot of gifts under the tree, even though they all doubled up or tripled up on some of them - Hal's gotten a Flash sweatshirt from Roy and Connor, complete with shit-eating grin, and Dinah opened a pair of new sunglasses from Lily and Mike. Ollie's clearly advised them on presents, which hasn't gone unnoticed. 

With how many people they have, they all kind of tend to open gifts at the same time, passing around who got who what and tearing paper open without a countdown to make it go a little faster. 

Something nudges Roy's arm. He looks down to see a familiar gold box poking him, and Garth grinning at him. 

"Here," he says, smiling wider when Roy takes it. He can feel a couple pairs of eyes on them, and he didn't get Garth _anything_ \- 

Garth's eyes flick to the side and back. Roy frowns, and Garth looks pointedly down under the tree beside them. Roy follows his motion to see something small wrapped in silver paper with _Garth_ scripted on it. In Garth's handwriting. 

Oh, Garth's a _genius_. Roy has no idea when he slipped that in, but he's so abruptly thankful he could kiss the guy. Again. 

"Here's yours," Roy says, obediently handing over the small box. It's oddly weighty, and he's trying to think of what it could be before Garth opens it. 

"Hey, Roy, thanks!" Mia calls, lifting her bunny slippers over her head. 

"It's from Dinah as well!" He shouts, and laughs when Mia shouts to Dinah as well, unnecessarily loud. There's other noises of gratitude, and conversation, and laughter over the rip of paper, but it all fades to the background as Roy unpicks the ribbon around his gift. 

He idly winds it around his fingers as he sets to opening the paper, tucking his fingertips into the folds to tear it free from the tape sticking it down. The box is flat and light, and roughly the size of a big book, but nowhere near the weight of one. Garth watches with a funny smile on his face, something fond in the corner of his mouth that Roy doesn't analyse too closely. 

The paper falls away to reveal an elegant black silk box, sort of like something Roy would expect to see on _jewellery_. He sets it on his knees and carefully lifts the lid. 

"I - _oh_ ," he breathes, staring dumbfound at the gloves inside, laid pristine along crushed velvet. They're a deep, familiar burgundy, with graceful curves of stitching along the wrist, the fingers, tucking into itself where they become fingerless. He touches one with a cautious finger. Leather. Already softened and worn. 

They look exactly like the gloves he lost to Tar Pit last time he stopped by Keystone, burnt up and almost unrecognisable where they lay among his old gear now. 

"How did you know?" He asks, lifting his eyes to Garth's. There's something soft in the curve of Garth's smile, something impossibly fond in his eyes, and Roy almost forgets they have an audience. The earth does that tilting thing again, ten degrees off. 

"Wally told me." Garth presses his foot to Roy's calf, warm even through the layers of clothing. 

"Thank you." It comes out softer than he means, something in his chest twisting and welling as he turns the gloves over in his hand, feeling out all the supple bends of the knuckles. 

He slips it on, and just like he thought, it fits perfectly. There's even a hidden pocket in the palm, and reinforcement around the knuckles where he holds an arrow. Custom. _Handmade_. Roy knows Garth doesn't have to worry about money, not with the League backing them, but this would have cost a pretty penny. 

"Thank you, I - I love it," Roy says, gently tugging off the glove to lay them back in the box. He smiles at Garth, can't help the fond tilt it takes, and gestures to Garth's present. "Your turn, now." 

"You didn't have to get me anything," Garth teases. The tension between them eases a little, lightened by Garth struggling with wrapping paper _he_ taped up, before tearing it free with a triumphant noise. 

It's a box of Garth's cologne - one that Roy recognises, from the few times he's seen Garth wear it, and it's nowhere near anything Roy would have _actually_ gotten him, if he'd had time to find something. 

"You were running out," he says sweetly, playing the part, and Garth beams at him. 

"Thanks," he says, _genuine_ , like Roy actually gave him anything. He doesn't know how to reply, tongue-tied all over again, so he does something he hasn't quite worked up the courage to do yet, and leans in to graze his lips over Garth's cheek. Garth automatically tilts into the touch, then suddenly halts, his breath puffing out criminally close to Roy's own mouth. 

Fingers circle around his wrist to squeeze gently. Roy twists his hand up and presses their palms together as he withdraws, settling back against the side of the sofa again. 

"Roy! Can you pass the red - sphere thing," Hal calls, holding a hand up to catch when Roy throws it. It's solid and surprisingly aerodynamic, with the ridge of baseball stitches imprinted onto his fingers, and Hal passes it off to Mia a moment later, complete with a suspiciously glove-sized box Garth slides her way on his command. 

Barry and Connor trade gifts, and Roy finds his one for Lily and Josh, and Garth shuffles over to sit beside him so Mia can discreetly screen the newest row of presents revealed. She stows a couple behind the armchair, and passes some small ones to Roy to hide in his small pile of opened gifts. 

With the rest of the family suddenly devouring Roy's attention, he completely forgets he's holding Garth's hand. 


	9. December 25 (cont.)

Christmas _dinner_ is a whole another affair. It's nothing like the dinner on the 23rd, with all of them sat relatively calmly at a table and chatting politely across full plates. Christmas dinner at the Queens involves a buffet table, all the cutlery in the house, and finding yourself a good spot in the living room. 

Roy sandwiches himself between Garth and the arm of the sofa, carefully balancing his tray on his lap. His cutlery slides to the side, but the weight of the plate keeps the entire thing relatively stable, so he feels a little more confident in scooting back to get comfortable. Garth just lifts his tray and sets it down after Roy's settled, an amused smile on his face. 

"What?" Roy asks, narrowing his eyes at Garth. 

"Nothing," Garth says, leaning back against the cushions. "I'm just admiring all the... _sweaters_." 

"You're just jealous you didn't bring your own," Roy teases spreading his legs so his thigh presses fully up against Garth's. They've gotten bolder with the touching, since last night, since this morning, since whatever dam between them crumbled. 

"I don't have any," Garth says, shifting to let Connor and Harry sit down on his other side. "Not unless you count the one Lilith got me." 

Roy snorts with laughter. "Yeah, I remember it. _Nice balls_ , isn't it?" 

"Yeah." Garth grins. "Although knowing Ollie, it probably would have been fine." 

Roy tips his head back with a cackle, dragging his cutlery back to centre as the rest of the family settles in on various sofas and armchairs. 

The sweaters this year are indeed colourful, both visually and...typographically. Dinah's is borderline with a joke about the naughty list, and Charlotte has a surprisingly vivid joke on hers that Ollie took one look at and laughed about for five minutes straight. Everyone's in a mix of red or green or white - except Hal, decked in a merry blue with a dreidel on the front, with a collection of lights poking up through the shin and nun symbols. They don't flash like Roy's, but just stay a constant, steady white. 

The movie is something lighthearted that they've all seen before, easy to tune into or out of while they eat, talking across rooms and sofas or down to Mia and Lily and Charlotte on the floor, all three of them cheerfully rejecting any sort of seating furniture. Roy leans over the arm of his sofa to bicker with Mike while Garth gets pulled into conversation with Connor through bites of the complete mashup that is dinner. 

They never really cook super _traditional_ food for dinner - there's turkey on the table, and an assortment of honey-roasted vegetables, slotted in neatly right alongside whatever more traditional recipes Hal brought from Coast, usually made with leftover ingredients from their Hanukkah celebration in Central. There's a few tame glasses of pairing wine littered around various trays, even on Ollie's, and there's a couple bottles of tarter liquors waiting to pair with dessert. Speaking of - 

"Hey, Con, what'd you make for dessert this year?" Roy asks, leaning forward to peer around Garth and past Harry. 

"It's a surprise," Connor says, smiling coyly. 

"Aw, c'mon, at least give me a hint. Will I like it?" 

"You'll definitely like it," Connor allows. He pokes Garth's shoulder. "Hey, I never asked, is there anything you...can't eat? I've got some back-up dessert I can make instead." The deliberately delicate phrasing makes Garth chuckle, wiping his mouth on a napkin before replying. 

"Not that I know of," Garth says carefully. "Whatever you made should be fine." 

Connor nods and turns back to his plate. Harry's attention drifts from the TV when Garth pushes his sleeves up, revealing the array of tattoos and scars on his forearms. Roy counts himself just a little bit lucky that no one's thought to look too closely at those - or the matching ones on the rest of them. 

"Garth, what do your tattoos mean?" Harry asks. Garth pauses, hesitating on his answer. 

"It's - they're cultural," he settles on, smiling pleasantly at them. 

"Like mine," Roy offers, to try and steer some of the scrutiny away from Garth. He taps his left bicep, where the Navajo band sits underneath his sweater. He's _really_ hoping to avoid anyone asking where Garth's _from_ , or what his culture is, because Roy's already checked, and there's no real culture they could use as a lie that isn't easily disproven through a two-second Google search. 

"So neither of you got them here?" Harry asks both of them, then leans in to drop their voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm trying to find a good tattoo place." 

"Does your mom know?" Roy asks, glancing over at Connie. Harry shakes their head. Garth frowns. 

"Your mom seems like she'd be fine with it," he comments. 

"Probably," Harry agrees, "but I don't wanna, y'know, find out she _isn't_ cool with it before I get an appointment. Then she can't stop me." They stab a fork at Roy. " _And_ I'm going to college next year, so if she doesn't like it at least I don't have to see her until she gets over it." 

"Playing politics," Roy agrees, "I get it." 

"Yeah, well, y'know, ever since - _y'know_ ," they gesture to themself, with a meaningful eyebrow raise that Roy and Garth both nod at in solemn acknowledgement. "I don't want to...push it or something. Dad wasn't exactly thrilled about me, but Mom's been totally cool about it." They wince. "I dunno. Just sometimes feels like I'm holding my breath." 

"Hey, I get it," Roy says, reaching across Garth to lay a hand on Harry's knee. Granted, his held breath was about different things, but he can relax the metaphor to comfort Harry. "But I don't think you have anything to worry about. She loves you a lot." 

"I know," Harry sighs. "I know, I just...I don't know." 

Garth shifts, then, carefully setting down his fork before gently touching Harry's elbow. 

"When I - starting dating Roy," he says, haltingly, like he's unsure of the lie. Roy knocks his knee and withdraws his hand from Harry to sit up more comfortably. 

"My...dad wasn't supportive, at first," Garth continues, soft and private. "He didn't like it at all, and he tried to convince me to give it up." 

Roy resists the urge to frown. It's an absolute lie, for the part about Roy, but there's a note of something real, something _genuine_ , in Garth's tone. Something that hints that he's not just drawing from his personal disagreements with Arthur about hero business. 

But Garth's told him about Atlantis before. He's told them _all_ about it, answered all their questions, and Roy knows Atlantis doesn't have the same hang-ups about gender that land does, so why does it sound like Garth's speaking from experience? 

"I don't see any of that with Connie," Garth says, smiling warmly at Harry. "I think she's just genuinely happy for you."

Something about Garth's words seems to settle Harry, their posture relaxing again a moment later. 

"Yeah, you're probably right," they murmur. Their eyes flick to Connie and then back to Garth, eyebrows pinching together. 

"If you don't mind," they say, "how did it end with your dad?" 

Garth shrugs, a small, sad motion. "He's...a lot better with it now. I think he understands I'm not going to give it up just for...family politics," he finishes, with a cheeky little grin. "He's accepted it." 

Harry nods, serious and contemplative for a moment before a smile breaks out on their face. 

"Sorry to drag the mood down on Christmas," they say, playfully slapping the side of Garth's leg. "I didn't mean to get all miserable on you." 

Garth laughs quietly. "It's no problem." 

"Hey, what's Christmas if you can't have a little family aggravation in the middle?" Roy jokes. Harry laughs loudly at that, nodding along, and Garth snickers to himself, scooping up his cutlery to resume eating. 

The conversation moves on, and dinner melts into dessert - _delicious_ powdered doughnuts handmade by Connor earlier in the day (with a helping hand from Barry, for the expertise and the speed) - and the entire time, Roy can't stop thinking about Garth's words. 

He can't ask. He knows he can't pry like that, not in - Garth's _affairs_ , or whatever they may be. But there's a small, selfish part of him wondering what could possibly have poured that quiet emotion into Garth's voice, wondering what pieces of the puzzle he's missing about Garth. 

\-- 

After Christmas dinner is Christmas dancing, which is mostly everyone embarrassing themselves to cheesy Christmas songster a couple hours, usually. Dinah pulls Connie into makeshift and very individual karaoke while Hal and Barry do some fucked-up silly form of the cha-cha. On their way by, Hal snags a string of tinsel from the tree and drapes it over Barry's neck, snickering when Barry flicks it over his shoulder like a scarf. 

Roy stretches out comfortably on the sofa, humming with content as he relaxes into the cushions. He's done his obligatory swaying with Connor and Mia, he's checked that box - 

A hand appears in front of him, offering to pull him up. Roy follows the lines of ink and muscle to lock eyes with Garth, whose barely concealed amusement is bursting out of the edges of his smile. 

"Oh, _no_ ," Roy says, laughing as he looks up at Garth. "No, c'mon, there's no way you want to - " 

"Why not?" Garth twitches his fingers to beckon Roy up, the curve of his grin cutting into his cheek. "You wouldn't leave your _boyfriend_ all alone up here, would you?" 

"Yeah, go on, Roy, go dance with your _man_ ," Mia teases, shoving him in the ribs. Roy kicks her foot. It doesn't dissuade her from prodding his side. A glance around the room tells him most of everyone else is dancing. 

"You're such an asshole," Roy sighs playfully, and offers his hand to Garth to let him pull him up. 

"I think I remember saying I was going to try my best to embarrass you?" Garth jokes, sliding an easy arm around his waist. Roy flushes hot at the contact, all his nerves lit up where Garth's heat presses against him through the sweater. 

"You'll regret this," Roy threatens, but rests his arms on Garth's shoulders to wiggle with him to cheesy Christmas pop. 

Garth smoothly shuffles them back into the bigger area of the living room, swaying along silly with the music - everyone else is singing along to Mariah Carey, but Roy's thoroughly distracted by the hold Garth has on him. The swaying lasts through Jingle Bell Rock, and the laughter propels them though clumsy middle school dancing for Rockin' Around, and after that, the songs start to mix up a little more. Roy keeps stepping on Garth's toes, but Garth doesn't complain, just laughs and pulls him in closer to sync them up better, and Roy's head spins dizzy with the proximity, his wrists crossed behind Garth's neck and Garth's hands curling warm, familiar, around his waist. 

Garth ducks his head to rest his temple against Roy's, humming softly under his breath along to the ridiculous pop of Santa Baby, stepping them back and forth in gentle time. Roy shakes with quiet laughter and tucks his cheek in beside Garth's to let the world narrow down around him, blissfully ignorant of anything past Garth's hands on him. 

Despite his initial reluctance, it's actually...really nice. Roy opens his eyes to briefly peek at the other couples, but no one's giving them a second glance. Like this, it's like they're actually _alone_ , like Roy really could turn his head and close the gap between them, like Garth would _let_ him, like he could confess everything bubbling up inside him, fizzy like the root beer he finished an hour ago. 

Instead of anything irresponsible like that, he does the next irresponsible thing and closes his eyes against the gentle ruffle of Garth's hair, drinking in the inhuman warmth melting against him. Garth's hands are strong and sure on his waist, smooth when they dip to rest on Roy's hips instead. He feels more than hears Garth's hum stutter when his fingertips land delicately on Roy's skin where his sweater has ridden up, points of heat that send a thrill through Roy. He wonders if Garth can feel his cheeks heat where their faces touch, worries if Atlanteans have some sort of super sense he doesn't know about yet to detect the kick of his heartbeat. 

If they do, Garth doesn't comment, but he does keep his fingers where they are, distracting and soothing in equal measure. It's something that Roy hadn't considered earlier that morning, that Garth's hands would feel warm all _over_ , and it's thought he tries to stow as quickly as it comes. His sweats aren't exactly thick. 

A louder murmur snags his attention. He quiets his breathing for a second to listen, a low, soft _what a fool I've been_ mumbled between them. Roy's laugh spills into the space, and he turns his head towards Garth. 

"I didn't know you knew the lyrics," He teases, and Garth falls silent with a soft chuckle, turning to meet him - and Roy doesn't realise how close their lips are until Garth's breath grazes his mouth. The speakers croon _if you kissed me now_. Roy finishes the line with a murmur, _I know you'd fool me again_ , and nudges his mouth closer to Garth's. There's something irrational and rash burning up his throat, something to match the sweet intimacy where Garth's hands tighten on his hips, where his breath puffs closer. 

For a moment, Roy almost meets him halfway. He _wants_ to, wants to just shift the extra centimetre, can feel Garth's lower lip brush against his when Garth swallows. His nerves erupt just from that one touch, tingling and alight, and suddenly he's glad that the barrier of his arms around Garth's neck affords them a modicum of privacy. 

They hesitate too long. Roy tightens his arms around Garth's neck and Garth shifts to kiss his cheek instead. He lingers. Roy savours every stolen second he can get, because then a louder song bursts through the speakers and startles them into separating from their tangle, putting a more respectable distance between them to continue swaying. 

When Roy lifts his head, Garth's flushed, too, his smile charmingly crooked when he takes Roy's hands in his and tries to spin him. Catches him, when Roy stumbles on the end, to the tune of his family's laughter. 

Privately, Roy treasures the way Garth fits them together, like puzzle pieces, like magnets, like he's reckoning with defying gravity whenever he pulls away, and by the twinkle in Garth's eye, he's just as reluctant to part as Roy is, when the dancing dies down. 

\-- 

Roy leaves the family downstairs when two glasses of wine turn into three - it's already edging close to midnight anyway, so it's not an unreasonable time to head to bed, and he's glad they at least held off for a little longer today. He deposits his armful of presents on his unused desk, sorting them into rough piles to stop any from falling off. 

The glove box he packs into his suitcase, tucking it gently into a protected pocket inside. He doesn't want to lose or forget them, even though he's currently torn on whether or not he can bring himself to actually _use_ them. He will, eventually, because that's what they were for in the first place, but something about the care that Garth put into ordering them makes his heart constrict in his chest. 

He has _no_ idea what to get Garth in return. He wants to get him something similarly thoughtful, but he's having trouble coming up with any ideas that don't immediately fall back on stupidity. There's easy gifts he could do - video games, a Christmas sweater of Garth's own, a landmark decoration to join the collection on Garth's drawers back in the Tower - but none of them ring quite the same as custom Arsenal gloves. 

Before he can dwell on it too long, the door shifts open for Garth to shuffle inside, holding just his bottle of cologne. 

"Hey, thanks for the gloves," Roy says, just because he doesn't think he can say it _enough_. 

"Thanks for the cologne," Garth jokes, wiggling the bottle at him. Roy rolls his eyes and continues strapping up the inside of his suitcase, tucking a few other gifts inside while he's at it. Garth rifles in the drawers, probably making space for his clothes, and sets the cologne down on the top with a quiet _thunk_. 

Roy really tries to keep his mouth shut. He really, really does. 

"When you were talking to Harry earlier," he says, blurts out before he can stop himself, kicks himself when Garth goes suddenly silent, waiting for the rest of the sentence, "what - were you talking about? With Arthur?" 

Garth stays quiet for a long, gut-wrenching moment. Roy squeezes his eyes shut and curses himself. 

"I'm sorry," he says, swallows down the thick lump in his throat. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked - " 

"Atlantis...has its customs," Garth starts. "Traditions." 

Roy dares to open his eyes, staring directly into his suitcase. 

"I thought Atlantis didn't...care about gender," he says carefully. 

"They don't," Garth agrees. He sighs, and Roy turns around in his kneel to look at him, his shin pressed uncomfortably to the floor. 

"They care about land," Garth says, and waves a hand in the air. Land. Of _course_. Oh, Roy's _stupid_. 

"Oh," he breathes. "Oh yeah, so - so if you were actually dating me, they wouldn't like it." 

Garth meets his eyes across the room. The vast, gaping abyss between them feels darkly hollow, a black hole where Roy dumps all his feelings and hopes they never return. Garth looks away first, tracing a senseless pattern on the dresser with his fingertips. 

"I'm the prince," he says slowly. "So my actions are more...scrutinised than most. My marriage should be to another heir." 

"That's moving a bit fast for someone you haven't met yet," Roy jokes, but it falls flat in the silence. Garth glances at the wall, his jaw working on a swallow. 

"Arthur isn't pleased that I...have feelings for someone on land," he says, quiet but firm. Roy's lungs burn in his chest with air he hasn't breathed, all but bowled over at Garth's soft, but achingly honest admission. 

"Isn't pleased?" Roy tries not to let it sound like a squeak, but it's a near thing. He knows it's not the part of the sentence he should be focusing on. Garth shakes his head. 

"Does he - know who it is?" Roy asks next, morbidly, hungrily curious, rocking back to sit on his ass as Garth chews through the question. 

He turns to look at Roy, then, his expression unfathomable. Roy's heart leaps into his throat, pulses under his tongue, and he wishes he could somehow cross the distance between them, wishes he could reach a hand out to curl around Garth's wrist, tuck his fingertips up against his pulse just to ground himself. 

"No," Garth answers eventually, and turns to the bed to pull out his pyjamas, signalling the end of the conversation. 

He steps past Roy to lock himself in the bathroom. When the shower starts up a moment later, Roy curls his knees up to wrap his arms around them, still digesting all the quiet revelations he's had tonight. That Garth _likes_ someone. That Garth likes someone on _land_ , likes someone enough it puts him at odds with _Arthur_. His king. His guardian. A mentor-that-isn't-quite-father, like Ollie is to Roy, and Roy's had his fair share of scrapes with him. 

He thinks about the mistletoe, and the dancing, and he wonders what Garth would choose, if it came down do it. 


	10. December 26

The morning after Christmas Day, Roy wakes up with a warm arm flung over his middle, and a now-familiar heat pressed up all along his back. When he shifts, the arm tightens, and Roy laughs softly under his breath. Garth's breathing is shallow, but still even, behind him, lightly dozing with his forehead pressed to Roy's shoulder blade. He finds it a little bit charming how much Garth slumped to do that. 

Garth's definitely awake, but Roy doesn't call him out on it. In return, Garth doesn't comment when Roy's hand drifts down to curl around his wrist. His bladder isn't insistent yet, so he can afford to lay there for a few minutes to try and catch up on brainstorming what to get Garth for Christmas - for New Years', at this rate, because he's coming up depressingly blank. 

A couple thoughts stick with him, like a Star City memento or a personalised hoodie, but none of it _feels_ right. Garth asks for video games for his birthday, which they usually accompany with merch from games he _already_ likes - last year it was Tomb Raider - and he's got a couple film posters stapled up in his room in the Tower - Sharknado 3 and Jumanji, hilariously - and there's nothing Roy can think to add. He strokes idly over Garth's skin as he thinks, tracing over memorised lines of tattoos. His fingers bump over a couple scars - 

_scars_! That's it! Roy's pulse jumps up in excitement, his mind racing a mile a minute as he thinks about the logistics of his new idea. 

Garth's always crossing his wrists for defence - a bad habit from using a long range magic shield with that gesture vs. the close ranger fighter he's become lately - and his outfit doesn't include any form of _gauntlets_. He's got these leather cuffs he wears sometimes, in his casual wear, but his uniform carries no protection for his forearms. 

It would be easy enough to do. Zip to Titans Tower for the materials, use Connor's workshop - Roy subtly presses his fingers around Garth's forearm, silently estimating the size he'll need. And also appreciating the swell of muscle there, but that's currently secondary to the thrill of cooking up something to make. 

If he's quick enough, he can finish it today. Gauntlets are little more than some shaping and welding, and Roy already has designs from Garth's outfit he can copy. He'll look into leather to pad the insides - specifically the Atlantean version of leather, with magic imbued into it to keep its properties; they have some at the Tower. 

"Y'okay?" Garth mumbles, his voice heavy with sleep. 

"Yeah, why?" Roy asks, turning his head slightly to try and look over his shoulder. Garth's hand lifts to tap Roy's wrist. 

"Your heartbeat." 

Roy stiffens. "My - do you - can you hear heartbeats?" Oh he's _so_ fucked if so, especially where his morning showers are involved - waking up next to Garth does impossible things to his libido, and he suddenly, intensely regrets accidentally training his body into all those early-mornings right hand sessions before work - 

"No," Garth says, and Roy sighs in relief, all the tension rushing out to leave him melting against the pillow again. Garth thumps his forehead against Roy's back. "I can hear it here." 

"It's nothing," Roy replies, as evenly as he can after that rollercoaster of emotions. "Just - remembered something I have to do today." 

"Mm." 

Garth presses his nose into Roy's back and seems to settle in, content to stay curled around Roy for the time being. Roy muses quietly on his plans, blueprints unfolding in his head as the minutes pass. The weak sunshine grows stronger, and a couple pairs of footsteps patter down the hallway, and still neither of them move. 

It's Roy that moves first, after a long and reluctant internal debate, and it's only because his bladder is starting to make itself known more persistently. He taps Garth's wrist and wiggles around to lay on his back. When his shoulder bumps Garth's head, Garth makes a soft noise and squints up at him, startling a guilty laugh out of Roy. 

"Sorry, didn't mean to hit you," he says, and without thinking, reaches over to brush Garth's hair out of his face. "I gotta get up or these sheets are about to get a whole lot warmer." 

Garth closes his eyes with a laugh, obediently rolling away so Roy can get up, vaulting over the tangle of Garth's legs to land neatly on the floor. 

The house is always sleepier in the quiet days between Christmas and New Years, so Roy takes his time in the bathroom, stepping into the hot shower with a sigh to try and drown out some of his racing heartbeat. Still, when he emerges to get dressed, Garth is only just pulling himself out of bed, scrubbing a hand over his face with a groan. 

Roy dumps his pyjamas in the hamper - the other thing about sharing a bed with a human furnace is the _sweat_ , and while Roy doesn't mind the consequences much, it's only polite to mind these things if he's sharing with Garth. 

That is, if Garth's staying. Roy pauses halfway through buttoning his jeans, staring blankly at the floor as the toilet flushes. He doesn't know why he assumed Garth _would_ be staying - Roy's side of the family is staying clear until just after New Years, but Hal and Barry are leaving tomorrow with plans to return for the New Years Eve party, and there's no real reason _for_ Garth to stay. No matter how much Roy wants him to, no matter how much he wants to spend this entire week selfishly close to him. 

Garth doesn't seem to be aware of his thoughts when he returns, flashing Roy a smile before opening his drawers to find clothes. Roy clears his throat and looks down at his collection of folded shirts. 

"I, uh - Hal and Barry are going back to Coast tomorrow," he says. Garth makes a noise of acknowledgement. 

"You can leave if you want, too." Roy picks up a shirt with only a minor tear in the shoulder, steadfastly ignoring the look Garth sends his way. "It's pretty dull until New Years." 

Garth's fingers still on the drawer handle. Roy meets his eyes and doesn't know what else to say. 

"Do you want me to?" Garth asks, something unreadable in his expression. Roy pauses, shirt still bunched in his hand, and chances a glance over at Garth's suitcase in the corner. 

_No._ "I don't mind," Roy answers. "But I know it's boring, and you're probably sick of sharing the room - " 

"It's not boring." Garth's voice is quiet but firm. Roy pulls his shirt on just to break the eye contact. 

"Well, if you want to go back to the Tower, I won't blame you," Roy says, smoothing out his rolled sleeves. 

"I'm not doing anything," Garth says. "Back at the Tower." He sucks in a breath and Roy holds it for him, lungs burning. 

"I'd rather spend time here," Garth continues. "With you." 

Roy releases the breath, something warm and fond taking its place when he looks at Garth again. His gaze drifts down traitorously, guiltily, and he thinks of mistletoe and _Last Christmas_. And he wonders if Garth feels the same, wonders if he's also scared to break the delicate bubble they've created here, with almost and not-quites. 

"I'd like that," he replies clumsily, forcing his eyes back up to Garth's, and not where Garth rolls his lower lip between his teeth and nods. 

"I've got a couple errands to do today," Roy adds, pulling on a hoodie and shutting the drawer. "So I won't be in the house for a while, but you're welcome to stay. Ollie and Dinah won't mind." 

"Where are you going?" 

Roy grins. "Nowhere special." 

"Somehow, I don't believe you," Garth says, a smile playing on his face. "You heading out now?" 

"Yep." Roy finds shoes and laces them up tight. "Make yourself at home, play nice with Connor, don't flirt with Connie too much - " 

"I was being _polite_." 

"Uh-huh, and apparently you're irresistible to older women. Maybe that's why Diana likes you so much." 

Garth tips his head back with a loud laugh, shoulders shaking with the force of it. 

"Irresistible, huh?" He asks, shrugging on a loose button-down. Roy's mouth goes dry at the picture he makes, jeans still unbuttoned and the shirt falling open over his very naked front. Yeah, irresistible is one of the many words Roy would use to describe him right now. Effortless, is another. Wet dream. 

"Don't get cocky with it," Roy jokes, and thinks he would very much like to see Garth _cocky_ , ideally with Roy on his lap. 

Garth _laughs_ again and starts doing up his shirt, and Roy leaves before the urge to pop those buttons off makes him irresponsible. 

\-- 

Roy grabs Garth's _Tomb Raider_ games from his room on his way back to the Tower teleporter, his backpack stuffed to the gills - pun intended - with Atlantean metal and leather and note-filled sketches and studies of Garth's uniform designs. He texts Connor to ask about using his workshop - granted with a _yeah of course_ followed up by _don't blow it up_. 

"One time," Roy mutters at his phone, winding his way back through Star to reach Connor's apartment. "It was _one_ time." 

Connor's apartment is simple but spacious - has to be for his vigilante storage, but right now it's bursting with crates and cases of Ollie's and Dinah's and Mia's stuff, stuffed into every available corner. There's even duffles in the kitchen, when Roy picks his way around to find some water before setting off to the workshop at the far end of the hallway. 

Roy has a workshop in Titans Tower - lifted almost exact from his one in Star, when he still lived here, personalised and outfitted with everything he needs, advanced S.T.A.R. machines included, but he didn't want to be cooped up in the Tower while working on _this_. Connor's workshop has big, wide windows with a view of the city sloping down towards the beach. In the distance, the ocean bobs and lulls. It's a very fitting view for what Roy's come here to do. 

Connor's workshop has a handful of the advanced tech machines, which will help significantly. His protective gear also fits him without any adjustments, so Roy ties his hair back, slides the protective goggles on, and starts tracing out blueprints. 

It's steady, satisfying work. A cheerful mix of eighties and belated Christmas music accompanies him as he cuts and sands and buffs and smooths. Beyond him, the city surges into its afternoon hustle and bustle, but he pays it no mind, swept up entirely in crafting. He marks down the rough measurements of Garth's arms, sketches out the straps he'll need to punch and sew. 

Roy's always liked making things. There's a certain thrill to _creating_ something that he treasures, a quiet delight hidden in the bustle of his life. The gauntlets come together easily under his hands, as if moulding themselves for him, all graceful curves and neat welding. 

The city shifts into evening as he finishes one of the metal shells - unpolished, undesigned, just the shape - and turns to working in the leather. Atlantean leather is different than land leather, but he's had enough experience fixing up uniforms as favours to know how it operates. He tips water on it to make it more pliable between his fingers, the magic letting it transform briefly so he can fit it into the curves of the metal. 

The buzz of his phone startles him out of his work - and his posture, which he fixes immediately to relieve the ache in his hunched shoulders. He clears his throat and leans over to look at the lit-up screen. 

_Garth: Dinah wants to know if you're coming home for dinner_

Dinner? Surely it hasn't been that - 

_Garth: she said to offer to put some aside for you if you'll be back later_

Roy blinks at the time on his phone. Seven p.m. He had only left the house at _eleven_. 

He looks back at his progress on table. Losing the passage of time seems a little worth it, in hindsight, because he has one mostly finished gauntlet, and a series of scribbled notes for how to make the second one much faster. It's hard to pull himself away, but he does with a sigh, pulling off his gear and setting it aside as he enables dictation on the phone with a voice activation. 

"I'm coming," he dictates. The message sends with a short beep, and Roy pushes himself up to stretch before heading to the connected bathroom to wash his hands and forearms. 

He leaves his materials at Connor's with a resolution to return tomorrow to finish the other gauntlet - now that he has the process down, he should be able to finish it relatively quickly, and then all he has left is the designs. 

He only hopes that Garth likes it. 

\-- 

"You went to the Tower?" Garth asks, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he takes the Tomb Raider case from Roy. Roy shrugs. 

"Had to get something," he says. "Anyway, if you're staying, I thought you might appreciate having your own games." 

"I - you didn't have to," Garth replies, glancing down at the case with a smile. "Thanks." 

"'Course." Roy nudges his shoulder and points his foot at the Xbox. "Go on, put it in." 

"Not the first time I've heard that," Garth mutters, leaning forward across Roy's floor to slot in the disc. Roy bursts into laughter, relaxing back against the side of his bed as Garth starts up a controller. They've liberated the monitor and Xbox from Roy's desk to set it up on the floor instead, leaning against each other and up against the bed. 

Roy watches as Garth plays, comfortably full from dinner and leftover dessert and pleasantly warmed all the way through. As the evening progresses, he gradually slumps lower and lower, until his head tips to rest on Garth's shoulder, and Garth just laughs - quietly, as not to dislodge him, but fondly, adjusting his own position to ease the angle on Roy's neck. 

It feels easier now, to flirt with the edge of _something_ between them. Roy still thinks about all their near-misses, and the gauntlets waiting for him in Connor's workshop, and the exciting, inexplicable thrill that runs through him whenever Garth even so much as _glances_ his way. It's like being a teen all over again, falling over himself to try, stupidly, to impress the team, to impress Dick, then Donna, now Garth, as if he could ever measure up to any of them. 

Roy tilts his head to look up at Garth. From this angle, he's mostly looking at the underside of his jaw, but sweeps his gaze upwards to linger on the corner of Garth's mouth, quirked up in amusement. 

"What're you looking at?" Garth asks without looking down.

"Nothing," he murmurs, chewing on the answer he really wants to give. Garth looks unfairly handsome in his bedroom lightning, devastatingly so, effortless as always, ever since he started making Roy's heart twist up in his chest. 

Garth glances down to him and away again when he finds Roy studying him right back, a delicate flush now on his cheeks. Roy finds it equal parts charming and cute, although _cute_ probably isn't what people usually use for Garth. They probably use something close to attractive, or _hot_ \- which he definitely, undeniably, is - but Roy thinks a flustered, clumsy Garth is downright _cute_ , and sometimes it's all he can do to not blurt out how he feels right then and there. 

Roy hums quietly and turns back to the screen, scooting up to pillow himself more comfortably on Garth's shoulder. His eyes idly trace the lines of tattoos swirling up Garth's arms, a deep, impossible black against his skin, darker than any human ink could get them. It seems almost unimaginable that they glow purple when he channels strong magic, bright and searing and almost too much too look at directly. 

Right now, he just looks like any other guy in his mid-twenties slumped on Roy's floor playing video games. They talk lightly about Garth's day, joke about Roy's secret errands, and bicker until Roy's too tired to respond properly. Garth doesn't move, and the last thing Roy registers before allowing his eyes to fall shut is Garth clicking into settings to turn the volume down. 

Roy wants to tell him he doesn't have to, but he's asleep before he can open his mouth to form the words. 


	11. December 27

"If you're not careful, 'm gonna get used to this," Roy slurs into his pillow when he wakes up, again, with Garth pressed up against him in some way, face-to-face this morning. 

"I joined the Titans," Garth jokes, his voice rough with sleep, "I don't think _careful_ is in my vocabulary." 

Roy grunts in acknowledgement. He pries his eyes open to blink at Garth, who looks surprisingly well-rested, and when Roy shifts, the crick in his neck wells up to greet him. 

"Aw, _fuck_ ," he sighs, gently laying his head flat again. "God, my _neck_." 

He's still in his clothes from last night, which means Garth must've actually _put_ him in the bed. The button on his jeans digs into his stomach - he's got morning wood as well, but it'll go down in a minute if he doesn't respond to it. His shoulders ache, from the workshop, and he groans as he rolls onto his back to stretch them out. 

"My _shoulders_ ," he complains. Garth snickers at his misfortune and props himself up on an elbow. 

"Here, let me," he says, and wiggles a hand underneath the collar of Roy's shirt to curl over the muscle connecting his shoulder and neck. The instant flood of warmth is nothing short of _divine_ against his sore muscles, and Roy doesn't even try to stop himself moaning out loud. 

"That feels _amazing_ ," he murmurs, and Garth _squeezes_ , digging his fingertips in slightly to rub in pleasant circles. 

Suddenly, Roy's morning wood just got a lot more attentive. He almost wants to groan again in frustration, but resists. With denim and the blankets, it's highly unlikely Garth will notice unless Roy draws attention to it, so he just lolls his head to the side instead to give Garth more access to his shoulder. It's _heavenly_. 

"Figured I might as well use my powers for good," Garth teases. He presses in particularly hard near Roy's spine, and Roy shivers at the pressure, shutting his eyes to it. 

"You're so _tense_ ," Garth murmurs, half to himself. Roy hums nonsensically, and he's _really_ enjoying the new pressure on his muscle - 

Suddenly, the pressure increases sharply, and the bedsheets rustle, and the next thing Roy knows, Garth is _straddling_ him, sliding his other - very warm, very _welcome_ \- hand onto Roy's other shoulder, under his shirt, and the twin conduits of heat make him shiver. His eyes snap open, hands lifting automatically to - what? push Garth off? Like _that_ would look good - but as it is, Garth's still propped up above his hips, above what is slowly becoming a very _definite_ and _persistent_ erection, and Roy's heartbeat thrashes against his ribs in a mild, quiet panic. 

"That better?" Garth asks, smirking like he's not practically _sitting in Roy's lap_ , the sheets pushed aside to the wall, and it takes everything Roy has to nod politely, carefully resting his hands on Garth's clothed thighs. Even that's almost too much, because _god_ , Garth's _thighs_ , but he's already at the point where he'll need to take care of stuff in the shower, so he powers through and presses gently to try and avoid Garth sitting down. 

The only problem is, Garth's hands are _really_ nice. He starts massaging in those tiny, satisfying circles again, shifting to work his fingers into the more persistent knot gathered under Roy's skin, and the relief of that almost makes him boneless on the bed, groaning loudly to encourage Garth to _keep going_. 

Garth presses in harder, sharper, the warmth from his fingertips flooding the ache while he works out the knot - Roy hisses, tenses up, and then his shoulder abruptly loosens, worked loose by Garth's frankly _magical_ fingers. 

" _Fuck_ , that's good," he moans, and then Garth _shifts_ and _sits down_ , and Roy pushes on his thighs - 

then pauses, when he realises the fabric under his thumbs is more taut than it should be. There's no way Garth can't feel his erection pressing into his ass, there's just _no_ way. Even if he dismissed it as the denim, or the bunch of Roy's underwear, there's no mistaking the length pushing up against the thin pyjamas. 

Roy's eyes fly open at the contact, locking with Garth as Garth's hands halt on his shoulders. Garth is flushed straight through to the tips of his ears, and out of the corner of his eye, Roy can see the hem of his shirt draping down, but he can feel the evidence of stretched cotton under his thumbs, inappropriately high on Garth's thighs. 

He thinks, very suddenly, of the involuntary noises he's been making, and his cheeks _flame_. 

"I, uh," Garth says, and swallows so thick Roy can hear it. Roy sucks in a ragged breath and shifts his hips very very subtly under Garth. 

"You - " 

"I know," Garth says. He doesn't shift on Roy's boner, thankfully, but Roy's finding it so very hard to resist _moving_. 

"Me too," he adds, which sends a bolt of pure arousal _straight_ to Roy's dick. But Garth doesn't move. He doesn't remove his hands, and he doesn't lift up off his lap, and he doesn't make any indication that he _wants_ to - 

Still looking him in the eye, Garth presses his weight down, slowly, deliberately, and Roy's breath catches violently in his throat. 

"Garth," he breathes, even as his hips twitch up involuntarily. Garth ducks his head, hair falling over his forehead. 

Roy boldly, recklessly, slides his hands up higher on Garth's thighs. Garth inhales sharply and closes his eyes - opens them a second later, lifts his head to meet Roy's eyes, piercing purple. His pupils are wider than they should be in the light, and a fine shiver runs through his shoulders when Roy presses his thumbs into his inner thighs. Oh _god_ , it's heady, feeling the twitch of Garth's fingers intimately against his shoulders when he braces himself to _rock_ again, when he sighs at Roy's next squeeze. 

Garth grinds down and Roy's willpower crumbles like sand, his hips rolling up to make the filthy press even _tighter_ , even _better_ , makes him swallow a noise behind his teeth and clumsily slide his hands further up Garth's thighs, around to curl over his hips, pull him _down_ into the next grind. Garth swears under his breath and seems to snap, then, running a hand through his hair and groaning quietly through his teeth when Roy tugs him down again. The image is so vivid, so visceral, so perfectly _filthy_ Roy can't help but imagine Garth naked above him, imagine the flex of his thighs and the contractions of his abs when he moves his hips - 

A weak, shaky moan escapes Roy's lips. Garth seems to zero in on the noise, eyes snapping down to Roy's mouth, cheeks flushing all over again, and if he likes the noise, then Roy's happy to give it to him, loosening his tense jaw to allow even the faintest whine to slip out when Garth _grinds_ again, hot and firm and delicious against Roy's burning arousal, aching in an entirely different way to his neck. He forgets all _about_ his other aches, in fact, as Garth rolls against him. God, it's embarrassing, almost, how much this _does_ it for him, but there's something about Garth in his lap that's just irresistible. 

"Garth, 'm gonna - " he pants, not close enough yet but polite enough if this is too _much_ for Garth, a mistake taken too far. 

"I know," Garth replies, something rough-edged hidden in the depths of his voice, his ears flushed right to the tips as he braces a hand on Roy's abdomen to grind down more firmly. "I want - " he breaks off with a frustrated grunt, hips jerking in Roy's hold. Roy hasn't even touched him yet, forgotten in the roar of pleasure storming up his bloodstream, but Garth doesn't urge him otherwise. 

"Please." Roy'll deny the whimpery edge as long as he can, but it's getting harder the closer he gets, arousal bubbling up and boiling over inside of him in a hot, familiar rush. "Don't stop, Garth, don't - " 

The next drag of Garth's hips knocks all the air out of his lungs, and it's all he can do to dig his head into the pillow and try to hold on just a little longer, stewing in the hot, surging thrill racing down his spine to pool sticky in his gut. Garth doesn't relent in his new pace, firm and pointedly deliberate, grinding down harder when Roy moans, longer when he shudders up to meet it, throbbing in his underwear. 

An undignified _ungh_ sound leaves him when he grabs Garth's wrist with one hand, struggling to keep his eyes open as Garth works his hips in deliberate, devastating rhythm, and it's not long at all before Roy's tensing up with a groan, desperate for touch, desperate for _anything_ even though Garth isn't _stopping_ \- 

"Please, please, _fuck_ , right there," he pants, babbles, digs his fingers into Garth's hip until his knuckles go white. He comes with a low, punched-out noise, hips jolting up and snapping back down at the immediate sensitivity. He can't help closing his eyes, as much as he wants to watch, and pants hotly as he shivers through his orgasm, a quiet noise pulled from him every time Garth grinds down, as if Roy isn't holding his hip in place himself. As if he wasn't frantically tugging Garth into the rhythm he needed, and as if Garth didn't _let_ him. 

Fuck, the thought makes a zip of arousal rip through him so violently he shudders, grinding up against Garth for every last aftershock until he twinges sensitive in the cramped, now-damp, confines of his underwear. He lifts Garth off of him an inch to indicate this new sensation, and takes a second to bask in the short and probably undeserved afterglow, for how quickly he came. 

He opens his eyes a couple seconds later, regaining his bearing by drinking in the sight of Garth above him, flushed and panting and - and _hard_ , definitely, seriously tenting out his pyjamas just inches from Roy's thumb. Roy slowly releases Garth's wrist, and carefully brings his fingers up to brush the backs of his knuckles over the bulge. Garth makes a quiet, high-pitched noise, looking down at where Roy cautiously touches him. 

Feeling bold with the reaction, and with the orgasm, Roy unfurls his fist to press his palm right up over the length of Garth's dick, curling his fingers loosely around him. 

"I can - " he says, licks his lips, "if you want - " doesn't know how to _phrase_ it - 

"I don't need much," Garth says, and _oh_ , he looks so much more debauched than Roy expected, somehow didn't imagine through all his guilty fantasising. His pupils are wide, black-blown, and his hair falls messily over his forehead, almost in line with the tattoos over his eye. His lips are a tempting pink, indented where he's been biting the lower one. Roy wants to kiss him and fuck him all at once, and what's scariest is that Garth might actually _let_ him. 

He settles for jacking Garth off over his pyjamas, fitting his hand to a familiar curve and stroking in loose up-downs to try and establish a rhythm. Garth's warm through the layers, impossibly warm, of _course_ he would be, but Roy never factored in the inhuman heat for _sex_. Garth rolls easily into his fingers, panting as Roy tightens his fist, quickens the pace, all his focus narrowed down to making Garth come. He folds his knees up to give Garth something to lean back against, props himself up on an elbow to allow more freedom of his other hand, which Garth seems to appreciate, judging by the way his fingers flex on Roy's shoulder. Roy's never seen anything hotter. 

Garth outright _moans_ when Roy squeezes the head, so he does it a little more just to earn himself another of those noises. He feel it settling into his hindbrain to haunt him for the rest of his morning showers, but he steadfastly shoves that part away to focus on the task at hand. Not that it's hard to stray - Garth is hot and firm in his hand, and he responds wonderfully to any bit of pressure, so Roy's keeping his fingers as tight as he dares and grinding the heel of his hand in every few strokes. _That_ move makes Garth's hips stutter and fuck up against his hand, something desperate in their cant. 

"Roy," Garth mumbles at one point, squeezing his shoulder. " _Oh_ , Roy - " 

Roy almost whimpers at the sound of his name in that voice - _does_ , a moment later, when Garth starts thrusting into his fist more determinedly, clearly chasing something that Roy's so fucking eager to give him. He's so _hot_ it's unfair, the muscle in his arms flexing with every strong roll of his hips - _god_ he's powerful, and Roy thinks, unbidden, of a lot more interesting things they could do, thinks about Garth pushing his thighs open and settling between them - 

Garth's panting starts dripping with noise, now, little _uh-uh_ s pushed out with every thrust. He braces himself on Roy's shoulder, his chest, a tremble tensing up his thighs around Roy's hips. His mouth falls open, careless, and his eyes screw shut with a surprisingly tense "Roy, _Roy_ \- " before he locks up and comes with a ragged moan, hips jumping up uselessly. 

Roy keeps touching him through it, despite the ache in his elbow underneath him and the twinge in his wrist, smoothing his palm up the length and over the head - _oh_ , the head, where Roy presses down on the fabric and finds wet heat soaking through to sticky up his fingertips, pushed through easy, more when Garth shudders and grinds against Roy's firm fingertips. Roy squeezes the head and fondles as much as he dares, until Garth whines through his teeth. Then Roy lets up, but doesn't withdraw his hand. 

He splays two fingers across the wet spot with the head, stretches the fabric and presses down to encourage Garth's come to soak through. It's filthy, watching it spread, but Garth doesn't stop him, his breath hitching every time Roy presses on the head. Roy pushes his thumb through the damp mess and thinks about licking it clean. 

He does withdraw, eventually, reluctantly. He wipes his thumb on Garth's pyjamas on his way back, and settles his palms tamely on Garth's thighs once more, closer to his knees. Garth rakes a hand through his hair and pants heavily. The previously charged atmosphere feels odd now, that ten degree tilt again. 

"Guess that took care of part of my shower today," Roy pants, offering Garth a smile to try and break the tension. It works, most of it melting away with Garth's answering laugh. 

"That'll make two of us," Garth replies, sitting back on Roy's thighs to catch his breath. "How're your shoulders?" 

_Shit_ , the gauntlets. 

"Better," Roy says lightly. He's about to open his mouth to say more, _address_ whatever the hell just happened, when a knock comes on the door, startling them both. 

"Hey!" Hal calls, knocking triple on the door again. 

Garth stiffens on Roy's lap, his gaze snapping to the door. 

"Don't worry, it's locked," Roy murmurs, gripping Garth's thighs just a littler tighter, as if to convince him to stay. 

"Bar and I are just going, we wanted to say goodbye," Hal continues. 

"Shit," Roy mumbles. Then, much louder, "Give us a minute!" 

Hal laughs, delighted and placating all at once. "Okay. You kids better not be up to anything in there," he teases, and then leaves. 

Roy freezes automatically at the joke - but of course Hal wouldn't _know_ anything, he doesn't have super senses - and stares uselessly up at Garth for a long moment, like his underwear isn't slowly sticking to his pubes and there's not a very prominent wet spot on Garth's pyjamas. 

Whatever he might have said before is completely washed away by this new mix of embarrassment and haste, neither of them speaking before Garth scrambles off the bed to get dressed. Roy throws him a shirt as he changes his own, rips off his jeans to replace his underwear and pull on a much more comfortable sweats instead. He hesitates before tossing his underwear into the hamper - he'll need to do washing soon, anyway, but he really should spot clean in the bathroom first - before resigning himself to the bathroom sink to scrub off the worst with a wad of toilet paper. Garth sheepishly joins him to do the same. 

Roy shoots the underwear into the hamper, washes his hands, and smooths his hair down before grabbing his phone and heading to the door, waiting for Garth to join him. 

Downstairs is a whirlwind of activity when they join the farewell party - Connie's currently hugging Barry tightly to her chest, proclaiming how _nice_ it was to meet them, and she hopes to see them around more often - 

"We're coming back for New Years," Hal says, while Barry gently extricates himself from Connie's embrace to shake hands with her kids. 

"You're not getting rid of us _that_ easily," Barry teases. His eyes light up when they land on Roy and Garth, and Roy gets folded into an enthusiastic hug before he can even think to protest. With a laugh, he brings up a hand to pat Barry's back. 

"Don't get in too much trouble," Barry warns, grinning at Roy. 

"It's four days," Roy scoffs. "And it's still a full house." He grins. "Although a lot quieter without you two." 

" _Quieter_ ," Barry mutters, rolling his eyes. "You'll regret that when you're left with Ollie and Dinah." 

"Hey, Garth's still here." 

Barry blinks, surprised. "Garth, you're staying?" 

"Yep." Garth gives a little shrug. "Might as well. It's not like there's anything for me back in New York." 

"Not even your _aquarium_?" Barry pulls him into a quick squeeze as well, mostly to embarrass him, and Garth returns it with a fond laugh. 

They pull back to chat, but Roy doesn't catch any of it before he's suddenly swept up into a tight, crushing bear hug, his face smooshed directly into soft leather and biting metal. 

"I'm gonna miss you, kiddo," Hal croons, dropping a dramatic kiss to his forehead, a deliberate _smack!_ that makes Roy laugh and squirm in his hold. 

"You're such a fucking drama queen," Roy says, half-muffled by the zip pressing into his lip, and Hal gasps dramatically, pushing Roy back to hold him at arms-length. He's a good actor, but Roy can see the twitch of amusement in the corner of his mouth, the telling crinkle to his eyes. 

"I don't get to see you _nearly_ enough," Hal says, shaking his head. There's a mischievous glint in his eye when he speaks next. "You know how hard it is to find time to fly across the country." 

Roy rolls his eyes as hard as he can without Connie noticing. "Uh-huh." 

"So, I guess I won't see you until your birthday, huh?" Hal asks, and even tries to ruffle Roy's hair - he ducks out of it easily, if messily, and Hal's hand still lands on his shoulder anyway, heavy and familiar. 

"Not if I uninvite you," Roy jokes. Hal holds a hand to his heart, playfully wounded. 

It takes a while for the entire family to say their brief goodbyes, but after it's all said and done, they wave Hal and Barry out the door, to walk down the street to a "cab" "waiting" for them, just so they're out of sight of Connie when they suit up again. 

The family disperses slowly, caught up in idly chatter and half-finished breakfasts. A hand touches Roy's arm. 

"Hey, you wanna go back upstairs?" Garth asks, cocking an eyebrow. God, Roy would _love_ to go upstairs, would love to at least try and talk out whatever happened, but he glances at the clock on the wall and almost winces at the time. Eleven. He's gonna need all the machine help he can _get_ to finish the gauntlets by this evening. 

"I'd like to," he says, carefully, locking eyes with Garth so he knows it's not Roy just trying to duck the conversation. "But I _really_ have to get something done today." 

Garth's face falls only marginally before he catches it, smiling softly as he nods. 

"Yeah, okay," he says. He clears his throat. "Are you gonna be long?" 

"I'll try not to be." Roy gently presses their hands together. "I promise." 


	12. December 27-28

The gauntlets take until evening. Roy's fingers ache from shaping and melting and welding, from punching and sewing and gluing, but it's all worth it when he has a second gauntlet by mid-afternoon, impressively symmetrical to the first. The buckles attach easily, a matching, shining silver, and the brown leather underneath blends nicely into the stitched seams. 

The good thing about using Connor's place is that Roy can help himself to a late lunch while finalising his designs, sketching them out one hand while the other twirls the fork in his spaghetti. He'll run the dishwasher while stamping the designs, he decides, and takes a much needed break on the floor to stretch out his aching shoulders again. 

The _bad_ thing about Connor's place is that his tools are left handed, so Roy's hands are starting to cramp from the unfamiliar angles. He stretches them out gently, archer's stretches that Brave Bow taught him all those years ago, and thinks about finding a heating pad when he eventually gets back to Ollie's. 

Or, if this was a bad rom com, it would be a good excuse to ask Garth to hold his hand. Roy laughs to himself at the notion, gently fitting fingers along the knuckles of his opposite hand and flattening them to stretch out his thumb. Despite the flurry of work and music, he hasn't quite managed to stop thinking completely about that morning. 

There's the obvious - the brand of heat over Roy's hips, the thundering heat on his shoulders, the flush on Garth's cheeks, the unashamed rock of his hips, _god_ , where did he even _learn_ that - and then there's the details that stick in Roy's mind somewhere to the left of ragingly horny. The soft fall of his hair. The unmistakable fondness in the way he said Roy's name. The tempting curve of his mouth. The way Roy wants to wrap them up together in that cramped twin bed and never leave. 

He sighs heavily into the stale air of Connor's unoccupied kitchen. It wouldn't be the first time he's dated a teammate, but Garth has the expectations of a whole _kingdom_ to worry about. Roy can't imagine the weight of that. If Garth and Arthur are already at odds just about _liking_ someone...Roy hesitates to think what that could escalate to if they actually _dated_. 

And despite how much Garth seems to reciprocate, Roy knows he's not worth all the kingdoms under the sea. 

Before he can dwell too long on his misery, Roy pushes himself up and loads the dishwasher. It hums happily in the background as he returns to the workshop, sketchbook in hand. He cleans up the worktable and sets out Connor's design tools in a neat line, rolling his shoulders once with a sigh before sitting down to resume his work. 

To be sensible, he traces the designs out on the gauntlets first in washable marker, marking out exactly where to position every groove before he starts to actually stamp them in. It's more tiring, patient work than creating the gauntlets, but equally satisfying nonetheless, the hum of the dishwasher long forgotten as he coaxes metal to bend under his will. 

Polishing and buffing steal the long hours into evening, his fingertips stained with oil and grease, his shoulders aching again from his hunch. His music plays unbidden, long past his chosen playlist and onto whatever random recommendations it gives him. The sun sets spectacularly in front of him and he misses it completely, engrossed in the fluid curves and grooves he's embedding along the length of the forearm, highlighting where the swell of muscle would be. 

By the time he glances at his phone again, it's nearing nine p.m., which shocks him into sitting straight upright. _Nine hours_? He looks at the gauntlets, mostly finished, and the nice velvet box he'd bought on his way over, half-open to reveal the green silk lining - Garth's favourite colour. 

He can't help the frown that tugs at his mouth. He really had meant to be back earlier, but he's _so close_ to finally finishing the gauntlets, and he doesn't want to spend a third day away from the house. There's no missed notifications from Garth. Roy picks up his phone with a sad sigh and brings up his messages. 

_Roy: I'm gonna be back late_

_Garth: okay_

_Garth: Ollie ordered takeout tonight, yours is in the fridge_

Roy types out an apology, deletes it, types it again, hesitates over the send button. Chews on his lower lip for a solid thirty seconds while he thinks over his options. 

_Roy: I'm really sorry_

_Garth: don't worry about it_

Garth's three dots bubble up then disappear. Bubble and disappear. Anxiety churns in Roy's gut. 

_Garth: is it me?_

_Garth: we can pretend it didn't happen_

Roy _scrambles_ to reply. 

_Roy: it's not you_

_Roy: promise_

He debates for a second over his next words, then sends them. 

_Roy: I don't want to pretend_

It's clunky and obvious, but he's hoping that Garth's realised by now that Roy's nowhere near a wordsmith. 

_Garth: I'll see you later then?_

_Roy: yeah, later_

With that done, he turns back to his work. He finishes edges, cleans the seams, and the playlist exhausts itself an hour later, fading into silence that Roy doesn't notice as he rubs down the gauntlets. With a set of tools smaller than toothpicks, he irons out the details, nitpicking in a way only he knows, about parts that Garth will likely never notice. 

Despite the time, and despite the dread gathering in Roy's chest - he's expecting to be let down gently when he gets back, an excuse of kingdom politics and Titans teammateship probably already at the ready - he's proud of the gauntlets when he finally deems them finished and lays them in the box, tucking tissue paper around the edges so they stay in place. 

They look beautiful, gleaming proudly in the light as Roy strokes over the designs. Symbols on the wrist match Garth's belt, and scales cover most of the rest of the metal, with strong, fluid lines to cut through them and define the shape of the gauntlet. The line of subtle buckles rests along the inner forearm, the most protected area during close-range fighting, and the leather peeks out of the top and bottom edges of the metal, for comfort of movement. Thanks to the material, they're strong enough to withstand a direct blade hit, and thanks to the structure, they'll withstand any blunt trauma. 

Roy closes the box and gets to work on cleaning up Connor's workshop. Once the tools are back in their places, cleaned off and good as new, he puts on his finishing touches. 

The clock in Connor's kitchen inches close to eleven when Roy shoulders his backpack and walks past it to leave. He feels bad about being so late, but as he locks up Connor's apartment, he thinks it might just be worth it. 

Even if Garth just wants to be friends, he'll at least appreciate the effort made for the gauntlets - even if he doesn't actually want them. Roy clings to that on his walk home. 

\-- 

When Roy gets home, the lights are still on. Connie and Dinah and Josh are curled up in the living room, watching a movie over cordial drinks, and they all wave to him on his way by. He murmurs a greeting and disappears upstairs as quickly as he can, carefully regarding the lack of light underneath his doorway. 

When he pushes open the door, Garth's already in bed. Still in _his_ bed. The laundry hamper is empty, and there's folded clothes on Roy's desk. Roy's heart squeezes at the sight, oddly domestic in this little room. Garth's even left Roy's side of the bed empty. 

Roy sets down his backpack and quietly pads into the bathroom to shower, then pulls a pair of clean pyjamas out from the drawer and climbs over Garth's legs to settle in his spot. He debates for a long moment on which way to face, and doesn't make a decision before Garth's eyes flutter open sleepily, searching and finding his in the dim darkness. 

"Hey," Garth murmurs, a warm smile curling the corner of his mouth as he reaches for Roy's waist. Roy sighs into the darkness, a held breath he hadn't realised he was hiding, and melts easily into Garth's familiar embrace, a hand splaying sleepy and warm over his lower back. 

"Sorry I was out so late," Roy breathes. 

"I'm just glad you came back," Garth says, low and intimate in the space between them. His eyes slip shut a moment later, sleepiness tugging at his features. He curls up closer to Roy. 

"For you? Always," Roy mumbles into his hair. He doesn't know if Garth hears him, but a moment later, a soft snore rises from the ball of heat against his chest. 

Roy closes his eyes and rests his chin on Garth's head. It's easy to fall asleep with his warmth, and even easier with his proximity. 

\-- 

"Here," Roy says, pushing the box towards Garth. It's wrapped in a deep blue paper, with a silver ribbon tied clumsily on the top. Roy's never been good with tying ribbons. 

It's evening. Roy's spent the day delaying, the hours hoping, the minutes holding his breath. 

"You didn't have to get me anything," Garth says, little more than a breath of words, but Roy shakes his head. 

"I wanted to," he admits. "I wanted - to give you something as good as what you got me." 

"You needed new gloves." 

"And anyone else would have bought me generic store ones and left me to customise them," Roy replies, fierce. His throat feels raw with the emotion he's trying to quell. Garth looks down at the messy bow and traces a finger across the taut line of ribbon. 

"Thank you," he murmurs, picking up the box to lay it on his lap. 

"Don't thank me yet," Roy says, scooting over to sit by Garth's side. "Open it first." 

Garth plucks the ribbon apart with careful fingers, unthreading it from itself to loop lazy over his wrist as he digs his blunt nails into the paper. Roy's stomach churns with a mix of nerves and excitement. He traps his fingers between his knees just so he can't fidget too much, and watches intently as Garth opens the lid. 

Surprise blooms over Garth's face, starting with a raise of his eyebrows and ending with a tilt of his mouth, tipping up into a smile as he looks at the gauntlets. 

"You _made_ these," he breathes, a statement, not a question, as he runs reverent fingers over the designs. 

"You always talk about getting armour," Roy says, jokes, pulls out his hand to lay a couple fingers on the scars slashed over Garth's forearms, tiny and numerous, claws and blades and jagged rocks. The tattoos hide most of them, but Roy can feel them underneath his fingertips, the ghost of injuries past. 

"I can't believe - " Garth picks up one of the gauntlets, turning it gently in his hands to examine all its sides. "These are _beautiful_ , Roy." 

Roy huffs out an embarrassed laugh. Maybe a handmade gift was too much - Garth didn't make the gloves, after all, and maybe Roy should have taken that cue instead. 

"I love them," Garth says, dispelling all his quiet doubts. "Roy, these - I don't even know how to _thank_ you." 

"That's the point of a gift," Roy says, smiling at him. "You don't have to. Try them on." 

Garth does, neatly buckling each one in place. They go from his wrist to just over halfway down his forearm, right where his tiny, slashed scars ripple out into smooth skin once more. And on the workshop table, they had looked practical, useful, a tasteful match to Garth's uniform, but Garth makes them look downright _regal_. He can't seem to stop touching them, rubbing the scales and grooves with a warm, genuine smile on his face. 

"I can always adjust them if they don't fit - " Roy starts to say, but Garth shakes his head. 

"They're perfect," he replies, looking up at Roy with something like _awe_ in his gaze. "Thank you, I - " he swallows, and glances down at the gauntlets again, his hair sweeping down to brush over his cheek. "I appreciate this." 

Roy gets the insane urge to tuck his hair back. He doesn't, but only because he's busy pushing the box back and scooting over to sit closer to Garth. 

"You didn't have to," Garth says, _again_ , and Roy shakes his head, _again_. 

"You didn't have to get me new gloves," he answers. "You didn't have to do laundry. You didn't have to agree to this." He swallows, something oddly thick in his throat. "You didn't have to stay." 

"No," Garth agrees, murmured and soft. "But you asked me to." 

Roy drops his gaze to the gauntlets, draped like molten metal over the curve of Garth's arms. 

"I can take a no," he replies, mostly on autopilot. In the corner of his eye, Garth's smile dips crooked. 

"I always had a problem saying no to you," he admits. Sighs. "We should talk." 

"I know," Roy murmurs. His chest constricts painfully tight around his lungs, around his heart, like his ribs are closing in on him. He's not ready for the rejection, as much as he's been anticipating it. Atlantis won't wait for a prince with his heart on land, and Roy knows he's not worth royalty. Not as a Queen and not for a prince. 

"I understand," he says lamely. "It's - there's a lot on your shoulders. Atlantis - " 

"I still _have_ a problem saying no to you," Garth interrupts, carefully, _meaningfully_ enunciating each word. His gaze lifts to meet Roy's, soft and regretful all at once. "The problem is that I don't _want_ to." 

Roy's throat clicks when he swallows. The gaping abyss inside him echoes the aching honesty in Garth's words. He thinks of Garth's hand on his cheek under the mistletoe and falling asleep together on the floor of Roy's room and Garth's hesitant admission of Arthur's disapproval. 

He can't imagine what the weight of the kingdom must feel like on Garth's shoulders. He can't imagine being in a _system_ like that - for all the differences in Atlantean and human culture, it seems politics is universal. He wonders what Atlantean marriage consists of. Wonders if it would be enough to keep Garth underwater, wonders if it would pull him out of the team. Out of his relationships. Out of Roy's life. 

"I didn't know about Atlantis's political marriages," Roy says, uselessly. "I didn't...know you had that hanging over you." 

Garth stays quiet, his mouth pulled into a thoughtful frown. Roy aches to reach over and take his hand, to do more than just _sit_ here, mere inches away. 

"I don't," Garth says after a long while. "I don't _have_ to get married. Atlantis would accept me as king regardless." But his mouth pulls down more, and Roy feels like he's just stepped into something a lot messier than just politics. 

"But Arthur," he says, but Garth shakes his head. 

"It's complicated," he corrects. "Arthur himself doesn't particularly care what I do. He - just wants the best for me. But Arthur as _king_...he has the other kingdoms pressuring him to keep tradition." Garth sighs. "Arthur fought for his place in Atlantis. So did I. So did Kaldur. Now, he doesn't want to upset the peace." 

Roy swallows, his throat thick with clumsy words. Garth glances at him, and he's close enough that Roy can feel tendrils of heat seeping through where their legs are pressed together, and he _wants_. He wants so badly it makes his chest ache with the swell of emotion, makes his tongue ache with all the words he can't say. 

Despite himself, he leans in. Garth dips his head the tiniest amount. Nudges their noses together. 

"You don't want to be king," Roy murmurs. Garth closes his eyes with a sigh. 

"I hardly want to be _prince_. I don't want the responsibility," he agrees. "I just want to help people." 

"You do." Roy lifts a hand to brush his knuckles over Garth's jaw, bold and scared all at once. He hates the sad crease in Garth's brow, the tilt at the corners of his mouth. 

"I want to stay up here," Garth whispers. 

"I'd miss you a lot if you went and got hitched under the sea," Roy replies, equally quiet. Garth huffs a laugh and tips their foreheads together. Roy's heart pounds in his ribs. 

"I'd miss you, too," he says, and Roy's pulse spikes dangerously. 

So does his bravery, and his death wish, apparently, because he tilts his head up, pauses, and lays his fingertips against Garth's jaw in an unmistakable gesture. Every breath feels ragged in his lungs, like chewed up hope and desperation fluttering delicately in places they don't belong about people Roy shouldn't want. 

"Can I?" He whispers, breathes, barely hears himself over the roar of blood in his ears. Garth nods, _nods_ , and Roy closes his eyes moments before he kisses him. Third time's the charm, he guesses, because this time the earth doesn't tilt and guilt doesn't churn his guts - this time, it's slow and soft and sweet and Garth chases just as much as Roy follows, set alight by the soft touch to his knee, to his neck, when Garth's hands eventually reciprocate. 

Roy reaches up to hold Garth's wrist, fingers curling over cool metal, and he wishes sorely he could press in and feel Garth's pulse. He wonder if it's thudding like his own. Doesn't have to wonder, a moment later, when Garth takes Roy's hand and presses it to his chest. Roy sighs into the kiss, a soft little _oh_ that Garth echoes with a tightening of his fingers on Roy's jaw. 

"I lied, before," Garth breathes, his forehead hot against Roy's where he's pulled back to speak. "Arthur knows it's you." 

"He knows?" 

"He figured it out." Garth brushes their noses together. "Years ago." 

"And Atlantis?" Roy removes his hand from Garth's chest to tangle their fingers together instead. 

"I already fought for my place," Garth murmurs. "I'll fight for you, too." 

Roy swallows. "And me? I'm not - I'm not exactly on a top ten list. There's better -" 

"I haven't met anyone better," Garth says. He presses a kiss to the corner of Roy's mouth, warm and tender. "It's too late to try and dissuade me." 

Roy can't help the hysterical little bubble of laughter that escapes him. 

"I'm not someone a _prince_ should be dating," he murmurs. For all his longing and all his selfish desire, he knows he's not perfect. He knows he's rough-edged and half-jagged, crammed full of sharp, conflicting memories, emotional baggage that wouldn't make it past TSA. 

"I'm not a prince up here," Garth whispers, squeezing Roy's fingers between his own. 

Roy's exhale shudders on itself. Garth swallows thickly. 

"So if you want - " 

"I want to," Roy whispers. " _Yes_ , I want to." 

Garth smiles, a soft, fond thing that makes Roy's heart do flips in his chest. He finds himself mirroring it. 

"Then I told you I had a problem," Garth says. He briefly disconnects his hands to unbuckle the gauntlets, setting them aside in the box without moving an inch from Roy. His forearms are a familiar shape to slide his hands over, gripping just where the scars fade and the tattoos thicken. "Ask me." 

Roy feels giddy with all the new permission, the new _something_ between them that he, apparently, only has to _ask_ for. 

"Okay. Okay, I can do that," he breathes, looks up to meet Garth's eyes, too close, doesn't care, loves the crinkles in their corners and the softness of their lashes. "Do you want to - make this official? Us?" 

"I think there's a word for that," Garth teases. Roy laughs. 

"I think there is," he agrees. His cheeks hurt from smiling, and he's sure he's red right through to his ears. "But if I remember correctly, I asked you last time." 

"Last - _oh_." Garth breaks off with a laugh, shoulders shaking in the corners of Roy's vision. "I see. _Last_ time. So if I asked if you wanted to be my boyfriend?" 

"I'd say yes, and not just for Christmas," Roy answers, and this time his laughter is muffled into a kiss, broken by their shared giggling but no less passionate, and he thinks he could get used to this. 

He could _gladly_ get used to this. 


	13. Epilogue: New Year's Eve

The living room is big, but still cramped with all of them in there, standing up to crowd in a loose clump around the TV, watching the Star City countdown on the news. Fireworks pop distantly, a shower of reds and blues through the window to set all of them in relief like paper 3D glasses. Remnants of cake and cake plates litter the coffee table, replaced with a drink in everybody's hands. 

Everyone's cordially grouped up for the new year - even Kyle made it over from LA to visit, and normally there'd be some sort of joke to make about two Lanterns and a Flash walking into Oliver Queen's house, but this year they're just civilian. Hal and Barry are nestled next to the copious branches of the Christmas tree, and beside them, Dinah slings an arm over Ollie's shoulders and leans over him to chat animatedly with Connie, gesturing with the half-full glass in her hands as the news anchor announces the start of the ten minute mark. 

Connie's kids are comfortably mingled with the rest of them - Mike and Harry and Charlotte with Mia, Lily and Josh with Connor (and Kyle). Roy stands with Garth towards the back of the group, heads tipped together to talk quietly over the cheering from the TV with a freezing soda between his fingertips. He doesn't reach for Garth in any significant way, not when they haven't told anyone about _them_ yet - it's been surprisingly hard to find the time, or the opportunity, especially when Connie and her family are supposed to think they've already been dating for two _years_. 

Then again, Roy's spent an awful lot of time in his room the past few days. Now he has _permission_ , free rein to be with Garth however they both like, however they both _want_. And god, Roy _wants_. He craves the early mornings, the lazy evenings, loves how he can reach out and Garth will meet him halfway. The mistletoe doesn't even compare to how Garth kisses him when he's finally allowed to, soft and passionate all at once, like it's the first and last time all over again. Like Roy would pull away, _could_ pull away, when he's so thoroughly fucked in love. 

Not that he's told Garth that yet. He's pretty sure Garth knows anyways, but he still wants to wait until they get back to the Tower to start making more confessions. There's enough packed into this house as it is, good memories and bad, but Roy doesn't want his relationship with Garth to be tied down here. 

Five minutes left on the countdown. An encouraging cheer goes up in the room, as if the minutes will hurry along at their beck, and the fireworks intensify, pops of pink and purple washing the entire room. Garth looks like something out of a romance novel in the firework light, from the sharp relief on his jaw to the soft shadow of his mouth, like an oil pastel smudge. The pinks reflect in the hollow of his throat, the lines of his hair, and the purple never comes close to matching his eyes. Roy finds them more enchanting than any fireworks, and he's probably being obvious even _now_ , leaning in as much as he dares just to get a taste of the space between them, just to know how inconsequential it feels when Garth studies him right back, something like admiration in his eyes. 

It's a heady feeling, knowing he makes Garth feel that way. It's even headier when Garth tells him, head dipped down, voice rumbling lower than the TV. 

"You look handsome," he murmurs, a grin working its way up the side of his mouth as Roy smiles. 

"I'm still in my pyjamas," he replies. Still, he tilts his head up slightly just to watch Garth's eyes trace over his jawline. 

"It'd be true whatever you were wearing," Garth says, bumping their shoulders together. 

"Even my Christmas sweater?" 

Garth chuckles. "Even the sweater." 

Roy eyes him up with a wide smile, lifting his hand to skim over the front of Garth's shirt. "You're looking pretty good yourself. I'm jealous of fake civilian me." 

"Jealous?" Garth brushes his fingertips against Roy's wrist in a sweetly subtle gesture, one that makes butterflies erupt in his stomach. 

"Mhmm." Roy settles for hooking his fingers into Garth's jeans' pocket, hidden from everyone else by the angle of their bodies. "He's been dating this for two whole years. I feel a little cheated." 

"I think we've made some progress on making up for those." 

"I dunno. You might have to show me later." Roy smirks at him, pleasantly smug with the way the tips of Garth's ears darken. 

"This morning wasn't enough?" Garth quips, and then it's Roy's turn to flush, jostling Garth with his laughter as he ducks his head. 

"All right, you got me there," he admits. The TV gets to two minutes. The living room grows louder, egged on by the gathering excitement, and everyone seems to get closer together without actually moving. 

Two minutes swiftly declines to one, then to thirty seconds, and anticipation buzzes under Roy's skin, making them all a little careless as the room explodes in counting and cheering, everyone knocking together to be the loudest. There's some celebratory jumping - from Mia - and some hollering - Hal - and the fireworks go silent for the long, tense final ten seconds. Roy shouts numbers with Garth, lets Ollie take over after five. Four. Three. Two. One. 

The clock on the TV bongs loud, discordant over the speakers, and fireworks erupt all at once outside, rising with the whooping in their little crowd. The couples all tilt towards each other, smiles on their faces, a new year's kiss moments later, and while they're all distracted with that, Roy feels a surge of boldness in his veins. 

He glances up at Garth, who's made no move to do anything except lean against him and grin. 

Fuck it. Roy can have his cake and eat it too. He sets his soda down on the side table behind them and slides his hand up to cup Garth's jaw. Garth glances down to his mouth, nods, and Roy kisses him a moment later, while fireworks explode and their company cheers at the TV. 

Garth's hand slips into his at some point, his palm burning against Roy's soda-frozen fingers, and Roy doesn't let go even when he pulls away from the kiss. His hand lingers on Garth's jaw, fingertips toying with his hair before withdrawing and picking up his can again. 

When he turns back out to his family, he catches Connor looking at him, raising a knowing eyebrow. Roy grins and jerks his head to Kyle, _you next_ , and Connor offers a sort of silent laugh, a single shake of his shoulders, before turning back around. His hand hovers by Kyle's elbow for a long second afterwards before dropping away. 

"Happy New Year!" Ollie crows, loud and boisterous. They all echo it back with varying degrees of coherency, even Dinah right in his ear. 

When Roy glances up at Garth again, there's a delicate flush on his cheeks, almost imperceptible in the firework flashes, but Roy knows him well enough by now to pick out his tells. Garth's smile is soft, pleased, and not even turned towards Roy at first. 

"Happy New Year," Roy says, swinging their hands together and grinning. 

"Happy New Year." Garth grins, genuine and _happy_ , and Roy's chest tightens on itself all over again, a bubble of giddy joy rising up to escape him in a quiet giggle. 

He doesn't let go of Garth's hand the rest of the night. 

And not the next morning, or the morning after, not even when Connie and her family jet back to Boston, and not when they're no longer civilians, and not on the trip back to Titans Tower days after that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm over at [halifax-jordan](https://halifax-jordan.tumblr.com) on Tumblr!


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